


The Coffee Cup Pyramid

by lumberjackwiki



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, coffee shop au for my soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumberjackwiki/pseuds/lumberjackwiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Nezumi was meant for bigger things, and the crappy coffee shop was just a pit-stop along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> coffee shop aus, always. it's probably been done before buuuut...

"Your hair is so nice."

            Nezumi looked up from switching to coffee pots over, even though the words weren't directed at him. The girl spoke in a blatantly flirtatious tone and simple words. Nezumi imagined she would get boring very quickly. She was cute, but seemed a little unexciting. Nezumi liked to think that he was good at reading people, and she just seemed a little dull around the edges. She twirled a piece of her own hair around her finger. The poor victim of her bland compliment was a boy who looked quite a bit more interesting than the girl. While she was blonde, with eyes that were very wide and very blue, the back of the boy's head was the brightest white. Whoever she was talking to, Nezumi would agree with her when she said that his hair was nice. But he would say it differently, better. The girl lowered her gaze shyly as the boy looked at her, but her eyes still sparked. Overall, Nezumi concluded, it was a very poor and very obvious act.

            "Thank you," was the response. As they boy turned to move forward in line, he gave her a quick smile, an honest smile.

            The girl's face fell. Nezumi recalled that she'd ordered a complicated vanilla something with lots of foam, so she had no reason to follow the boy further. The sleazy coffee shop was like a cheap theatre. Would the girl stalk to object of her affection some more, or would she give up the fruitless chase?

            She chose the latter.

            Inukashi trampled passed Nezumi to get a "hot chocolate, half milk with whipped cream". Nezumi didn't have to strain to hear what Inukashi was mumbling under their breath. "'Your hair is so nice!' I wonder what he dyes it with?"

            Nezumi looked over with a smirk. "I'm sure you would have heard of albinism by now if you ever read," he pointed out.

            "Your voice is grating," Inukashi snapped.

            "I'm disappointed that you couldn't come up with a more eloquent comeback."

            "Shut up," Inukashi hissed. They kicked his ankle as they walked back to the register. It probably would have hurt more if they had been wear shoes that weren't worn loafers. Inukashi handed the hot chocolate to the customer, who smiled nervously at Inukashi's bitter expression.

            "Thank you," Nezumi chirped as he walked passed. He made a point to shoot a winning smile to the customer.

            The customer left in a hurry, wearing a blush and a very flustered expression.

            "All you have to do is open your mouth, and everyone's already jizzing themselves," Inukashi snorted.

            The albino boy stepped up to the counter, looking up at the flickering menu board. Nezumi was surprised that those stupid lights haven't burned out yet. They'd been flashing annoyingly for the past month.

            Inukashi turned their back to Albino. Inukashi slapped Nezumi heavily on the shoulder and sighed, "I've got to pee."

            Nezumi looked over at Albino, who was watching them with a smile. Maybe he hadn't heard Inukashi's crude comment, or maybe he was stupid. Inukashi slid their feet on the tiles as they walked away, untying their green apron from their back. Nezumi grabbed their hair roughly. "Where are you going?"

            "I need to piss," Inukashi half yelled as they tried to pull their ponytail out of Nezumi's hand. "Half these people are here for you anyway. I'm giving you the opportunity to greet your fans."

            Nezumi let Inukashi's hair slide out of his fingers as they pulled on their ponytail once more. They stumbled forward slightly before giving Nezumi an ugly look. Nezumi ignored them, instead turning to Albino, who was still smiling stupidly at the other side of the counter.

            "What can I get you?"

            "Just a small coffee."

            "Not a mocha frappe latte with extra foam?" Nezumi asked. He had said it to be mocking, because no one came to the sleazy coffee shop for "just a small coffee". The coffee sucked.

            "Is that even a drink?" Albino asked, smiling. Only an idiot would smile.

            "I don't think so." Nezumi could memorize the entire collection of Shakespeare, but he couldn't remember the names of any of the drinks in the menu. He was fairly sure that he could handle a coffee though.

            And Albino laughed.

            Nezumi shot him a glare as he filled the order.

            "Please tell me you wanted nothing in this," Nezumi said as he handed over the cup.

            "No, it's fine."

            Nezumi took the scant coins and counted them into the register. "You gave me too much," Nezumi said, trying to hand back some of the change.

            "No, I didn't."

            "I may be pretty, but I also know math, and this is more than a dollar twenty."

            "This is a medium cup," said Albino, "so I'm paying you for a medium."

            Shit.

            "Are you a saint? Just pay for the small and leave like a normal person," Nezumi said.

            Albino smiled again. Maybe this guy was stupider than Nezumi had first thought, and he had first assumed that he was pretty damn stupid.

            "I feel like paying for a small would be stealing," said Albino.

            "Taking your money for this appalling coffee is stealing."

            Before Albino could respond (Nezumi already knew it would be a weak response, because Albino was already smiling) a clear voice said, "Shion?"

            It was a girl, a pretty one with brown hair and intelligent eyes. Those eyes flashed to Nezumi and sparked, not in a way that showed attraction but in a way that showed disdain.

            Nezumi dubbed her Princess. She was already looking down at him like road kill at the side of the road (like she didn't know if she should pity him or not), she just needed a title to actually be superior to him.

            Nezumi bet he was better read than her. He might even be prettier than her, he decided.

            "What's taking so long?" asked Princess, staring down Nezumi like it was his fault.

            It was, but he wouldn't admit it.

            Shion said, "I'm just paying now." And he waited for Nezumi to put the coins in the register, eyes watching as Nezumi pointedly dropped them into the right section.

            Nezumi grit his teeth so hard they felt like they would turn to powder.

            "Safu," Shion said as the girl started to walk away.

            (Nezumi wished he hadn't said that, because he would never be able to forget a name. He thought Princess suited her much better.)

            Safu spun around and put her hands on her hips. "What? I thought we were done here."

            "Thank you," Nezumi chirped. "Have a nice day."

            It was as much a dismissal as anything.

***

Nezumi would more than happily burn No. 6 down if it wasn't horribly illegal. He would be happy enough to burn it down if was just a _little_ illegal. Maybe he could lie his way out of that.

            The way things were, burning down the club was very illegal and Nezumi wouldn't do well in prison. He paused walking and readjusted his backpack straps on his shoulders, tilting his head. He could probably kick ass in prison, he decided, but he whole idea of it was not ideal.

            He started walking again.

            No. 6 was the sixth building down the street. It was kind of a dank street, littered with trash. It just made everything look a bit more disgusting when it was bathed in the bright, flashing light leaking out of the club.

            Nezumi bet that he could come up with many creative names for No. 6. Naming it Dystopia came to mind. Who wasn't fond of a good dystopian novel? Translate that into a night club with lots of leather, and it was bound to be a best seller.

            A little sidewalk cut beside No. 6, and that's the path Nezumi took. He kicked a beer bottle away from his foot as he walked, nose crinkling in distaste. This place reminded him of home, just a little bit.

            He stopped in front of a heavy looking door and pulled it open easily. It was made to look intimidating, but it weighed next to nothing.

            The inside of the building was surprisingly dark. Nezumi knew the layout of the room off by heart. He slipped through the clutter soundlessly. When he reached the door, he flipped on the light and slid his backpack off his shoulders.

            There was a faint gasp. Nezumi's eyes shot in the direction of the noise. A woman was hurrying to cover her bra, slipping her dress back over her shoulders. A bearded man made an ugly face at Nezumi. "Eve," greeted the man.

            "Rikiga," Nezumi said, letting careful amusement slip into his voice. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

            "Get out of here, you wannabe actor," snapped Rikiga.

            Nezumi grabbed his backpack by the straps and put on his best offended expression. "I was going to change here. Are you sure you don't want to see that? I thought you liked me, Rikiga."

            "Eve," Rikiga gritted out.

            Rikiga's companion was already glaring daggers at him. Nezumi concluded that his work here was done. He stepped out of the room quickly, before the woman could throw something. Or maybe before Rikiga could throw something. Nezumi could never tell who would snap first.

            The next door over was the men's bathroom. Nezumi wondered why Rikiga couldn't take the whole making out business there rather than the storage room. Beside the men's bathroom was the woman's bathroom. Nezumi leaned against a wall and considered his options.

            To any other nineteen year old boy, the decision would be automatic. Nezumi was dressed in jeans and a v-neck shirt and a beanie over his loose hair. He didn't quite look like a woman going to the club.

            Not yet, at least.

            Nezumi shrugged his shoulders and pushed open the door to the woman's washroom. He wouldn't admit to himself that he was thankful that it was empty. The whole transformation business was awkward in the company of others.

            Men who wanted him and woman who wanted to be him; he didn't know which was worse.

            Nezumi was a staple at No. 6. He guessed that any woman who caught him walking into the female washroom would know why he was there.

            He slipped into a stall and quickly stripped. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a white dress. It was summer, and the temperature  in the club reflected that. The dress Nezumi had in his bag was simple and flowy. Loose, while still managing to show off his body. It was a fine line he was walking.

            It took him short time to get the dress on. Boys like him, he suspected, were experts at taking off dresses, not putting them on.

            Nezumi shoved his street clothes into his backpack and pulled the beanie off of his head to follow. He quickly brushed through his hair with his fingers. It wasn't like a beanie could exactly hide his face, but they were still good to hide in. They were, at least, a better alternative to wearing ski masks.

            He unlocked the bathroom stall and stepped out, shouldering his backpack once more. His destination was the storage room again, but this time he made sure to knock. How polite of him.

            The storage room was empty and his politeness fell flat. He shoved his knapsack into a corner between two boxes, hidden from anyone who wasn't looking for it.

            And then he went to work.

            He caught the eye of the owner of No. 6 and signalled that he was there with a little wave. The owner nodded back. For some reason, he requested to be called 'Mayor'. Nezumi had no idea as to why. It wasn't even a good title. If he could be called anything, why not be a president or a king. Or maybe a duke or a thane.

            The Mayor could even ask to be "God", if he felt like it.

            Nezumi walked through the crowd to the Mayor, avoiding swaying hips and moving bodies. The music was almost deafening. The lights were almost blinding. Nezumi was used to it.

            The Mayor greeted Nezumi near the bar with a curt nod. "Ready, Eve?" he asked.

            "As ready as I'll ever be," Nezumi said with a shrug.

            He had stopped getting stage fright years ago. He remembered that he had played Macbeth in his Grade Five play. He hadn't been scared then. It was a thrill. The crowd. The atmosphere. The potential for greatness. The applause. He was good at this.

            The Mayor looked over at him with a smile tugging at his lips. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

            "Never."

            "Then break a leg."

            The Mayor walked over to a group of people, plucking and beating at instruments under the cover of the heavy music pouring out of the speakers. Nezumi trailed after him, two steps behind because he might be trained like a dog but he wasn't so obedient.       

            "Ready?" said the Mayor.

            A gruff looking woman nodded and readjusted herself behind the drums. An oily man plucked at his guitar strings and didn't even acknowledge them.

            "Okay Eve," the Mayor said. "Your audience awaits."

            "I much prefer acting."

            "There's no money in theatre," the Mayor said. "Now get up there."

            Nezumi climbed up onto the stage. The music stopped pouring from the speakers, and there was a loud and genuine cry of anger that resonated through the whole club.

            Into the mic, Nezumi said, "I hate live music too."

            Then, just like that, the whole place erupted into cheers and cries of, "It's Eve!"

            Nezumi felt himself grinning. He turned and nodded to the band behind him. They started playing instantaneously, but it worked. The jumble of sound reached every corner of the club. People howled like animals.

            Just then, Nezumi thought that the world was his. He growled lyrics into the microphone.

            The cheers built him up taller.

***

He didn't need to put the beanie back on. He didn't need to hide. He wasn't stupid enough to get drunk off the cheers, but he could still feel a buzz as he grabbed his backpack off the floor.

            Nezumi didn't lie to the Mayor when he said he preferred acting. But Nezumi would welcome any performance. It felt right. Even if it was singing shitty songs to drunken people.

            Maybe one day he would make it to the theatre.

            He hated No. 6. He hated the people and what No. 6 stood for. But he liked the opportunity it gave him to perform. He wouldn't of ever gotten any recognition without the shitty night club.

            No. 6 was his necessary evil.

            Nezumi hung his backpack from his shoulders and stepped out of the building. He closed the door behind him. The speakers were playing again, but the music cut in volume as the door shut. Nezumi turned and started walking down the road, hands in his pockets.

            He pulled his phone out of his pocket. If anything, it was safest to check the time around No. 6. He and Inukashi had tried to give nicknames to all the places around city. There was the West Block, where they lived, because there was no road going any further west. There was Lost Town, a small collection of buildings that looked like the city had given up on them. Inukashi had suggested calling it "The Graveyard" but Nezumi was a little more fond of calling it Lost Town. The people there weren't dead, just forgotten.

            They called the university Chronos. It was a fancy word that Nezumi had pulled out of a book. It was pompous and fake, just like the students.

            Looking down at his phone, Nezumi read the time as 1:38am. He groaned quietly to himself. He had a morning shift at the coffee shop. Which usually meant getting up at a godforsaken hour and listening to Inukashi bitch about how tired they were.

            The coffee shop had no name, just a lame chalkboard outside the door. Nezumi and Inukashi couldn't figure out a name for it, because "I Don't Know Why We Haven't Been Fired Yet" didn't have the right ring to it.

            Nezumi shoved his phone into his pocket again as he neared Lost Town. He wouldn't say that the people there were criminals. The West Block was worse  in that respect. But there was something about Lost Town, maybe it was the whole defeated atmosphere, that made him want to get through it as quickly as possible.

            There was no point in those people living if they won't fight for it.

            He read a tacky wood sign as he passed it. "Karan's Bakery" was a simple name, but a warm name. A name that would make people feel welcome. It was a little uncreative, Nezumi would admit that. It was not the grand kind of name you'd read in a book trying too hard, but the name you'd read in a book that was real.

            The name was real, Nezumi decided, walking on.

            Lost Town ended as suddenly as it began. There was time spent walking through a street with no real purpose, then he was in the West Block.

            Nezumi would be lying if he said the West Block was a nice place.

            The buildings were old and worn, all chipped off-white paint and ugly bricks. The sidewalk was even a little worse for wear. The city had once tried to repair the walkways, but many inappropriate things were drawn into cement that day.

            The West Block was a part of the city that people wished didn't exist.

            Nezumi was fairly certain that even most of the people living in the West Block wanted it gone. Nezumi wasn't positive about his feelings about the whole thing. Maybe if it was just reinvented, given the attention it needed, then it would become a better place. At the same time, there were many unsavoury types of people living in the place. Nezumi shrugged his shoulders at the thought. It wasn't his job to make these decisions anyway.

            He opened the door to the apartment lobby. It was painted a blinding yellow, and fluorescent lights lit the whole damn thing even brighter. Nezumi blinked at the assault on his eyes.

            His apartment was on the second floor. He trudged up the stairs, scuffed boots looking as dirty as the beige carpet. Nezumi decided offhandedly that he needed a shower. His hair was still sticking to his face, even though the sweat had long since dried. Nights were cool, but No. 6 was still warm.

            Maybe warm was the wrong word. Warm gave the impression of comfort. No. 6 was hot as hell, and filled with devils.

            Nezumi grinned faintly to himself. He unlocked the door to his apartment quietly, but then the world got loud.

            He didn't know what Inukashi had done to keep all these dogs around, but they must have had to bribe someone important. There were three of them. And two of them were barking their heads off at the awful intruder that was Nezumi.

            "Shush," Nezumi sighed. "I live here."

            One dog, an old lab named Daddy, wandered over and wagged his tail. Nezumi couldn't fathom why Inukashi had named their first dog Daddy. But Nezumi thought that Daddy was decent, as far as dogs go.

            Nezumi patted Daddy's head, and the dog panted contently. And, just like that, the other two mutts shut up. They both hurried over, eagerly trying to get attention from Nezumi. They were his biggest fans.

            "Oi, oi," Inukashi yawned, walking out of their room. "Why're you talking so late?"

            Daddy loyally walked over to Inukashi and stared up at them with the biggest, brownest damn puppy dog eyes. Inukashi crouched down and hugged him around the neck, "Hey."

            Then the other two sprinted to Inukashi, tails wagging up a storm. Nezumi's fans were so fickle. But they were smart. They knew who loved them the most.

            "I still have the superior pets," Nezumi pointed out.

            It was a constant argument between them. Which animals made better pets: dogs or rats. Nezumi found the need to point out his animals' superiority, simply because it was 1:50am and he was a little sleep deprived.

            "Really?" Inukashi snapped. They got oddly defensive about their dogs. "Then why aren't they here greeting you?"

            "Because they are in their cage, politely waiting for me instead of raising hell."

            Inukashi buried their face in Daddy's fur. "You're a good boy, no matter what bad things he says about you."

            Nezumi decided to give them a moment alone, walking passed them into his room. Before he even turned on the light, he heard a little squeak. Once he light was on, he could see the two little faces staring up at him. They were curled together in their hammock, but their eyes watched him with interest.

            If Inukashi had a bad habit of talking to dogs like they were people, then Nezumi had the same problem with his rats.

            "I've got to shower still. A long day awaits me, and I should be a little prepared with at least an hour or two of sleep."

            Hamlet slipped off the hammock and put his tiny hands on the bars.

            "No," said Nezumi.

            The rats had pleading eyes.

            "No," said Nezumi.

            Before their beady eyes could stare into his soul, he turned his back to them and walked to the bathroom. He peered into the living room. Inukashi was curled up on the sofa with Daddy.

            Nezumi shrugged.

            Dog people were strange.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

He wouldn't mess it up this time. It was the performance of his life, and he would not fail. He turned to Inukashi and whispered, "This is a small cup, right?"

            Inukashi rolled their eyes. There must of been something in Nezumi's expression, because they answered a moment later, "Yeah."

            Nezumi put the cup to the side. He walked back to his position at the cash register and slowly worked through the line of orders. He would take one, Inukashi would take one. Repeat. Nezumi passed a cup over to a middle-aged woman and accepted the exact coins. Then he looked over at Inukashi.

            They were apparently having as much fun as Nezumi was. Both of them wore sour expressions, and had tired, bleary eyes. Nezumi made sure to smile at the next customer. Inukashi did not.

            As Inukashi walked passed Nezumi for a medium cup, they groaned, "Our sofa is fucking uncomfortable."

             Nezumi nodded and turned to the next costumer with a smile that shone like the sun. It was apparently a winning smile, because the girl told him to "keep the change" before she walked away. She looked over her shoulder once, and bit her lip.

            She met with a group, swarm, army (however one chose to describe a gathering of girls) outside the door. Before the door had shut, Nezumi heard his name on the lips of one of the girls.

            He just had that effect on people.

            "See what I told you," Inukashi grumbled as they passed. "They all come here for you."

            "I imagine most of the time I'm just a happy coincidence," Nezumi told them modestly.

            Inukashi waved their hand in the air in a litle gesture that meant Nezumi was spewing shit again. Nezumi scoffed and started to prepare the next person's order.

            And life went on in the shitty coffee shop with no name. For some reason, Nezumi was thinking of Karan's Bakery and about how easy it would be to just name the coffee shop something simple. "Rikiga's Coffee" didn't have quite the same ring as "Karan's Bakery" but people would get used to it. At least, it would be better than calling it "that shitty place without a name".

            Until Nezumi heard Inukashi ask, "Just a small coffee?"

            Nezumi's head snapped over, and instantly locked on the white head of hair. Inukashi was the lead in his performance. It was Nezumi's show, the one where he didn't mess up a simple coffee orders.

           Inukashi picked up the cup Nezumi had put aside for just this occasion. Then they filled it part way with coffee. "Do you want anything in it?" asked Inukashi.

            Damn, they were good.

            "No," said Shion. "It's okay."

            Inukashi shrugged and filled the cup dangerously close to the brim. Then they snapped on a lid and passed it over the counter, "There you go, Albino."

            It was an obvious slip on Inukashi's part. Nezumi smirked over at Inukashi. But Shion just smiled, "My name is Shion."

            Inukashi shook their head, face red. "Got it. Shion. Sorry," they said.

            Nezumi walked over to Inukashi as Shion walked away. He was close enough to hear Inukashi mumble, "Weirdo" under their breath. Nezumi slapped Inukashi hard between the shoulder blades. It was something they did. Who could hit the other the hardest to get the other's attention? "I'm taking a break," said Nezumi.

            Inukashi half-yelled, "You're leaving me with this horde?"

            "You'd much rather deal with them than with me," Nezumi pointed out.

            Inukashi chewed their bottom lip. "True," they said, "get out of my sight."

            Nezumi untied his apron and stuffed it under the counter. He had already decided he would take the back exit. That way, there were less people. Nezumi wasn't shy by anyone's definition, but he liked privacy.

            He was right about one thing: there was less people out the back exit. But there were still people. Two people, to be exact.

            "Shion," Safu sighed. "Why do we always come here?"

            "I like it here."

            "I don't--"

            Nezumi started pass them as they walked, and Safu shut her mouth so quickly her teeth clacked together. A lover's quarrel.

            "Don't stop on my account," Nezumi said.

            "Are you following us?" Safu demanded.

            "Don't flatter yourself, Highness," Nezumi drawled.

            Safu's hands balled into fists. Nezumi took a note on that with faint interest. So she was quick to anger. He met her eyes. She looked back at him. Again with that look that made him feel less than her. Of course, he knew he was not less than her. They could possibly be equals, or he could be better than her. It all depended on what angle he looked at things.

            "Highness?" Safu said.

            "Sorry," Nezumi said, "Do you prefer 'Princess'?"

            "Princess?" Safu spat.

            She didn't seem very intelligent, but angry people rarely acted smart.

            "Safu," Shion said.

            Safu looked over to Shion and her eyes softened, but it was a bland kind of sad. Nezumi wondered what went on between the two of them, as they seemed to speak with just a look.

            "Safu," said Nezumi, testing the word out on his tongue.

            And all trace of calm vanished. "What?" she snapped.

            "Safu," Shion said again.

            "Speak, Shion," Nezumi said. Shion looked over with a small, guilty smile, and Nezumi clarified, "I heard your name in the shop. It's rather a hard name to forget."

            "Oh," Shion said. "Thanks?"

            He scratched a little scar on his cheek.

            "Shion," said Safu.

            "He never called me Albino," said Shion. "It was the other employee."

            "I never called you Albino aloud," Nezumi corrected.

            Safu's teeth met with a snap. Shion put his hand on her arm. "He seems like a rude person, but he's never been directly rude to me."

            "Except right then," Safu said.

            "If it means anything," Nezumi said, "I think your white hair is charming. And your eyes aren't creepy in the least. They're quite appealing once I look at them closely."

            Shion said, "See? He's not being rude."

            "Now he's trying to get into your pants," Safu mumbled.

            "Am I?" Nezumi said. "Maybe."

            Safu blushed bright red. Shion just tilted his head and blinked, pale eyes looking into Nezumi's soul. He was worse than the Hamlet and Cravat in the respect, because their eyes were small and endearing while Shion's were big and borderline attractive.

            If he was into that.

            And he was fairly certain he wasn't, but he could always surprise himself.

            "Shion," Safu said.

            "Safu," Shion said at the same time.

            And Nezumi couldn't help but add, "Nezumi" into the jumble of words.

            "Nezumi?" Safu said, eyebrows drawing together.

            He bowed mockingly. "Yes, Princess? You called."

            Shion said, "Your name is Nezumi?"

            It sounded different coming from Shion's mouth than it did coming from Safu's.

            "Yes, your Highness," Nezumi turned and bowed slightly to Shion.

            And then both Safu and Shion were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. Nezumi was the star of this show, whatever kind of twisted show it was. But a show could only last so long. "I have to get back to work," said Nezumi.

            He walked away before they could say anything.

***

Nezumi learned from his mistakes.

            But this time, walking in on Rikiga was not a mistake. It was amusing to see him riled up and red faced. Rikiga pulled his shirt back over his head, while the woman he was with struggled to clasp her bra back on.           

            "Would you like help with that?" Nezumi offered politely.

            The woman shot him a poisonous look. Rikiga ground out, "Eve" as a sort of greeting.

            Nezumi bowed slightly. "At your service," he said. "Though not in the way she is, of course."

            Rikiga was red up to the tips of his ears. He looked from Nezumi to the woman, some strange pleading look on his face.

            This woman was different than the last one, so Nezumi knew he could reuse the same, familiar script. "I was going to change here. Don't you want to watch?"

            Rikiga spluttered and the woman's eyes cut sharply to his face. "No!" Rikiga cried. "I mean, _no._ I don't want to watch you change."    

            Nezumi blinked rapidly and looked down at his feet. "I thought you liked me, Rikiga."

            It wasn't his best performance, but the woman seemed to think it was believable. "Rikiga," she spat out.

            "Leave, you failure of an actor," Rikiga demanded.

            "Failure of an actor?" Nezumi asked. "Really? That's the best you can come up with?"

            Then he stormed out. He peered out into the club, looking for the Mayor, and his eyes widened. Sure, people dyed their hair crazy colours.  Blue and pink and red weren't rare colours. Green, a little more rare. But white was pretty damn rare to see. Maybe it was a trick of the light.

           Nezumi tightened his hands around the straps of his backpack and walked confidently to the head of white hair. Sure enough, pale eyes were lit by the flashing lights and a small scar marked his cheek.

            "Are you following me?" Nezumi said.

            Shion snapped around, a small, almost scared expression on his face. But he relaxed the moment he saw Nezumi. Who did this kid think he was? He should be damned well ready to run when Nezumi appeared. That, or preparing for a fistfight.

            "Nezumi," Shion said. "No, I'm not following you."

            "What a lucky coincidence, then," Nezumi said dryly.

            "Very lucky," Shion smiled.

            This guy was an airhead.

            No. 6 was the sleaziest, dirtiest place Nezumi knew. He rarely read people wrong, and he imagined Shion more likely to curl up under the covers with a book than spend his night in a shitty club. So Nezumi asked, "Does your Mama know you're here?"

            Shion smiled a guilty smile that said more than he needed to. "Kind of," he said.

            "Don't lie to me."

            "I'm looking for Rikiga. She knows that much. She doesn't exactly know where I'm looking for him, though."

            "You lied to your Mama?" Nezumi clucked his tongue.

            "I didn't lie," Shion defended.

            "You just stretched the truth then?"

            "Something like that."

            "I didn't think you had it in you, Highness."

            Shion replied, "You don't even know me."

            It was a little bit true. What did Nezumi know about Shion? Mama's boy. Boyfriend to an attack dog of a girl. Albino. Smiled too much to be normal.

            "What a tragedy," Nezumi said. "Do you want me to know you, Highness?"

            "Yes," said Shion without hesitation. "And I want to know you."

            Nezumi's eyes actually widened. Who talked like that? His hands loosened on his backpack straps, and he quirked an eyebrow a moment later. "Really?"

            "Really."

            Nezumi wasn't used to that kind of painstaking honesty. That could be the only explanation. No. It was either Shion's dumb honesty or lying through his teeth. But which was it?

            "You said you were looking for Rikiga?" asked Nezumi. Anything to get out of the conversation.

            Shion blinked owlish eyes before nodded slowly.

            "Eve!" yelled an irritated voice.

            "Oh, there he is," Nezumi said.

            "Eve?" asked Shion.

            "Shion?" Rikiga was close enough to stop yelling, and he met Nezumi's eyes with a dangerous glint in his own. "Why are you here? Why are you talking to this wannabe actor?"

            Nezumi nodded, "I found him. You're welcome."

            He started to walk away, then he turned around and said, "You've used that insult already, by the way. It loses some of its sting the second time."

            "Eve," Rikiga sighed.

            Nezumi pulled his backpack straps and mocking saluted before heading to the girl's washroom. He wasn't wearing his beanie today. He kind of wished he was, just so he had something to hide under.

            One rule of theatre was to get in character, forget yourself, and keep moving forward.

            Nezumi didn't know why he wanted to hide.

            He slipped into a stall and pulled off his shirt. It scratched against the scars on his back. They were ugly, no matter how nice a dress her wore. He bet he could wear a ball gown fit for royalty, and he would still feel a little ugly on the inside.

            His dress today was as simple as the last one. Maybe he got horribly uncreative during the hot days, where he didn't want to die of heat stroke on stage. He pulled the dress over his head. It had long, flowing sleeves and a lacy hem. He looked a little like a ghost, all in white.

            Once his backpack was stuffed with his street clothes, he hesitated.

            Nezumi dug through the backpack and pulled out a little makeup bag. He walked up to the mirror and focused on putting eyeliner around his eyes. It was a familiar motion, and one he could take comfort in.

            The eyeliner pencil scratched against his eyelids.

            His eyes had never looked so grey.

            And he couldn't really help but stare at himself in the mirror. Mostly because the damn things were _right there._ He pulled his hair up and tied it in a quick bun on top of his head. His face was framed with select strands of hair. But the overall impression was just grey eyes.

            Even with the ugly scar on his back, Nezumi knew he could be fearless.


	3. Chapter Three

If it was humanly possible to teleport in real life, Nezumi would have suspected that Shion did just that. One moment, Nezumi's reading a novel under the counter. Not even a second later, and Shion materialized right in front of him.

            "Hi," Shion said.

            "Hi," Nezumi replied blandly. "One small coffee?"

            Shion smiled self-consciously. "Am I that predictable?" he asked, combing his fingers through his pale hair.

            "Yes."

            "Then you should make me whatever you recommend from the menu."

            Nezumi said, "I recommend going somewhere else. The coffee here is subpar at best."

            And, Nezumi added silently, he hadn't memorized anything beyond simple coffee and hot chocolate. He usually left the more difficult orders to Inukashi. Somehow, they managed to remember every little thing about every person who walked through the door.

            Shion shook his head in almost a childish gesture. "I like coming here."

            "Hey, Inukashi," Nezumi called. Inukashi jumped and tucked their phone back into their pocket. "What do you recommend from the menu?"

            "You can't just spring that on me," Inukashi snapped. "I need to get to know the customer before I can make up drinks for them."

            Nezumi stepped to the side and signaled to the now empty spot in front of Shion. "Get to know each other," said Nezumi. "Have fun."

            "Nezumi?" Shion said. He sounded a little lost. And Nezumi half hoped that any moment now, Safu would burst through the door and drag Shion out of coffee shop hell.

            The other half of him wasn't quite wishing that. Nezumi wasn't one hundred percent certain what he was hoping for. Maybe, he decided, he just wanted to avoid the sting of Safu's tongue. She spoke with more venom towards him than he was used to. And he was used to quite a bit of venom.

            "He orders small coffees," said Nezumi to Inukashi. "Every single time."

            "Very adventurous," said Inukashi.

            "I imagine he hasn't had a moment of adventure in his life."

            Shion said, "I am right here."

            Nezumi looked over his shoulder at Shion. "We know."

            Inukashi busted out laughing. "Nezumi is particularly gifted at pushing people away. But he's just a big puppy dog. You should hear him talking to Hamlet and Cravat."

            That was how Inukashi earned an elbow in the gut.

            "I'm just a big puppy dog," Nezumi agreed dryly.

             Shion tentatively said, "You two seem close." It sounded more like a question. It apparently took a certain level of closeness to want to beat up the other. According to what Nezumi dubbed Shion Logic™.

            "We're the closest," said Inukashi in a falsely bright tone. Their acting was horrendous at best, but Shion's face still fell.

            Nezumi clarified (for Shion's sake, of course), "We are not close."

            "We _are_ close," said Inukashi. "Remember that time we almost fell out of--"

            "I remember. It was because your stupid dog ran away."

            Inukashi's head whipped around, hair flying around their face. "Daddy's not stupid."

            "He's smarter than you, but that isn't saying too much."

            "Take that back."

            So far, during all the time they had spent working together in the shitty coffee shop, they hadn't gotten into any fist fights. Living together was another story. But Inukashi was fairly insistent on keeping their "home life" separate from their "career".

            Whatever that meant. Working in an unnamed coffee shop in the dirty part of town wasn't exactly a career.

            "Nezumi," said Shion.

            Inukashi's lip fell from where it had raised into a snarl. "This guy says your name like you matter," they said.

            "What?" Nezumi made a point of ignoring Inukashi's statement.

            Shion did say Nezumi's name differently than most people. He wasn't pronouncing it in some strange, obscure way like he was a fictional character whose name was a string of gibberish. No, Shion said his name like he was important.

            Who the hell let Shion talk like that?

            "Who's Eve?" asked Shion.

            Saying that it was none of Shion's business seemed a little childish. Telling Shion to fuck off was immature. So Nezumi said, "What?" like an idiot.

            He hated being caught off guard.

            "Who's Eve?" said Shion again.

            "Come on Nezumi," said Inukashi. "Isn't making our customers happy our number one priority?"

            Nezumi was so close to punching the smile off Inukashi's face. He ground out, "His Highness surely had better things to do than worry about the lives of commoners."

            "I want to know," said Shion.

            "He wants to know," Inukashi agreed.

            Nezumi was too busy thinking about the nastiest things he could do to Inukashi. Maybe something like tying their hair to their bedposts or feeding the dogs laxatives.

            "Well," Inukashi shrugged. "Happy customers equals a happy employer. What do you want to know?"

            "Who's Eve?" Shion said for the third time.

            Surely the question was getting old and stale and decomposing by now.

            Inukashi pointed at Nezumi, who ground his teeth together and thought about evil things. "He's Eve."

            "Is that your name?" asked Shion. "Eve?"

            "No, my name's Nezumi."

            "See," said Inukashi, leaning forward over the counter. "I like you, so I'll give you some information about Nezumi. He works at No. 6. Alias, Eve. He's a singer."

            "There's no glory singing in clubs," Nezumi ground out.

            "Right," said Inukashi, nodding sagely. "Nezumi's meant for bigger things. Like theatre or Broadway or some shit like that. A Shakespeare musical would probably have him jizzing himself."

            Shion's cheeks coloured faintly. His voice was clear and unfazed when he spoke, however. "Why Eve?"

            "Why not Eve?"

            "That's not an answer," Shion said.

            "Do I owe you answers?"

            That made Shion pause. He exhaled a faint "oh" and Nezumi took the opportunity to untie his apron and throw it under the counter.

            "I'm taking my break," Nezumi said.

            He walked out the back exit. He knew that Shion or Inukashi could find him, if they really wanted to. But no one followed him, or appeared, or even materialized due to some kind of creepy dark magic ritual.

            Nezumi sat on the ground. He stretched his feet out in front of him and smacked his boots together.

            What was Shion playing at?

            Nezumi didn't want to admit to himself that there was a small blossoming of hurt in his chest. He'd seen Shion at No. 6. No one good ever went to No. 6, including himself.

            The guy was an airhead. Naturally stupid, oblivious, predictable.

           Nezumi put his palms to his face. Shion was pretty to look at, but he would just turn out like every other human. He would turn into a monster. It was something that happened to people, a metamorphosis like in the novels. Every human had evil inside them, like Macbeth, and the smallest thing could awaken it.

            Luckily for Nezumi, he already considered himself a monster.

            It was one less thing to worry about, the inevitable descent into inhumanness.


	4. Chapter Four

"Oh my god, don't rats carry the bubonic plague?"

            "I read somewhere that it was fleas. And it doesn't even matter anyway, since Cravat barely broke skin."

            "But he did break skin and the plague could be spreading this very second within my bloodstream."

            "You aren't meant for theatre," said Nezumi. "You have an issue with overdoing it."

            Inukashi placed the bandage over the barely-bleeding bite. "Dogs could be put down for this, you know," Inukashi mumbled. Louder, they said, "Why do all our Band Aids have princesses on them?"

            "Don't you ever want to feel beautiful, Inukashi?" asked Nezumi in a flat tone.

            "No."

            It was Nezumi's turn to grumble. "Serves you right."

            But Inukashi had ears like a hound, and they turned their head around and looked into Nezumi's face with piercing eyes. "What did I do?"

            Nezumi turned his nose up and Inukashi actually growled. "Is this about your lost puppy?" they asked.

            "What?"

            "That airhead that imprinted on you like a lost little puppy. Is this about him?"

            "No." Clear and confident. Like denial was a line he'd rehearsed one thousand times to get it right.

            Inukashi scratched Daddy behind the ear and hummed in a way that showed they did not believe a word of what Nezumi said. Then they put their chin on their palm and mumbled something around their fingers.

            "Try to talk without your fingers in your mouth," Nezumi suggested helpfully.

            "Walk?" Inukashi said louder.

            And all hell broke loose. The two dogs that had been sleeping contently on the sofa jumped to their feet. Daddy panted and barked once. Hell apparently broke loose very mildly in Daddy's world. But the other two, running in circles and tripping over their feet and crying like spoiled brats, were a fine example of hell breaking loose.

            Inukashi got to their feet and snapped three leashes on three collars. They looked down at the dogs sitting at the door. Daddy sat very calmly for a dog about to do his _favourite thing ever_ , tail thumping lightly against the ground. The other two, not so much. Inukashi spun around and pointed a finger at Nezumi. "You take Daddy," said Inukashi.

            "Excuse me?"

            "You owe me."

            "For what?"

            "Cravat's savagery."

            "You got affectionately nibbled by a little rat," Nezumi translated.

            Inukashi shoved the leash into Nezumi's hand. Then they opened the door, and Nezumi had no choice but to walk. Well, the other choice was fighting against a seventy pound dog. And Daddy was _really, really, really_ excited about walking. Nezumi hadn't seen the old dog move so much all day.

            Walking through the West Block was unpleasant, to say the least. People eyed the dogs with disdain, and Inukashi glared right back. Inukashi's dogs were a staple in the West Block by now, but they were not loved. Nezumi had faintly wondered what the dogs had done, but then he decided it was more likely what Inukashi had done.

            They passed the road with no purpose (Nezumi had started to think of it as a divide between the West Block and everywhere else in the city) and wandered into Lost Town.

            Nezumi knew Inukashi didn't bring him along for company. He was more likely supposed to serve as a silent dog walking machine. Based on Inukashi not bothering to say a word, he decided that it was true. He was just a pretty leash holder.

            "Don't step on the glass," said a voice behind them.

            Nezumi looked over his shoulder and said plainly, "Are you stalking me?"

            "Maybe you're stalking us?" Safu said.

            "Ah, yes. I even brought a dog to keep my intent hidden. It must not have worked, dammit," Nezumi said blandly. "And here is my faithful stalking companion and two other dogs. This is just seeming like a lot of work."

            "Don't drag me into this, you shitty actor," Inukashi snapped.

            "Well," said Safu, gesturing to Shion. "This is Shion." Then she gestured to the building they were standing next to. Karan's Bakery. "And this is Shion's house."

            Nezumi hated being surprised.

            "You live in a bakery?" Nezumi asked sarcastically.

            "He lives _above_ the bakery," said Safu.

            "Ah."

            Maybe Shion had other clothes in his little room above the bakery, but Shion seemed to be wearing an different kind of ugly sweater vest whenever Nezumi saw him. He couldn't imagine a guy like that living in Lost Town. Sure, it was more likely than Shion living in the West Block. But he imagined the guy would live in the normal part of the city, the kind too perfect to give a stupid nickname to.

            "Why aren't you saying anything, Shion?" asked Nezumi.

            "Huh?"

            "Does he need to say anything?" asked Safu.

            "Yes," said Nezumi. "If he wants me to think he has even the smallest shred of intelligence."

           Inukashi snorted. Nezumi had almost forgotten they were there. The two dogs they walked were sitting patiently, tails thumping against the ground in anticipation. Daddy was straining to say hi to Shion and Safu.

            Daddy always had awful taste. First Inukashi and then Safu.

            Nezumi still hadn't made up his mind about Shion. Whenever Nezumi thought he had Shion pinned down, Shion always ended up surprising him. Maybe he would stop trying to make a judgement on Shion, and just let Shion be Shion.

            Whoever Shion was.

            Shion, at that moment, was licking his lips and Nezumi realized he was staring. "What do you want me to say?" asked Shion.

            "Anything but that," Nezumi said.

            Maybe Shion was a puzzle with a thousand pieces.

            Nezumi hated puzzles.

            "Um?" Shion mumbled.

           "Do you ever have anything to say, or do you just let your girlfriend talk for you all the time?" Nezumi snapped.

            Shion blushed violently. In a blink, his whole face was red up to his hairline. Safu, on the other hand, blushed slightly with a violent look on her face. She had sparking eyes and she opened her mouth (no doubt to yell at Nezumi, he decided).

            But Shion spoke first. "She's not my girlfriend."

            He sounded so nervous, looking at Safu like she was a volcano about to erupt. Nezumi looked between the two of them with blank eyes. "Ah?" he intoned.

            Safu snarled, lip raising in disdain. She was a snake ready to strike, but then Shion put his hand on her arm. "Safu," he said, and her lip fell. She looked at Shion, and he smiled at her.

            "I'm sure he doesn't mean to be rude," said Shion.

            "I mean to be rude," Nezumi corrected.

            Safu said, "Why are you so disrespectful?"

            "Do you deserve my respect?"

            "People deserve respect from others," Shion said without hesitation. "They don't need to do anything for it. The default should be respect, and then actions can either lose it or gain more."

            Inukashi snorted. "This guy's a natural."

            "More of an idealist."                                                                     

            Safu had her hands balled into her shirt. She twisted the fabric between her fingers and looked down at her feet. Her ears were bright red. "What's wrong with that?" Safu asked.

            "Idealists are the first people to be crushed by the world," Nezumi said.

            "I won't let that happen," Safu whispered.

            There was something about her tone, her stubborn, stupid determination. It wasn't an act or a face. It was the blunt truth. Nezumi paused. It was commendable in a way.

            Nezumi was tired of reading people wrong.

            It was a rare thing. People seemed to all fit in their roles, never once stepping out of line. In a novel, who would Safu be? What about Shion? Nezumi? Would they go beyond simple character roles and archetypes?

            Nezumi didn't know.

            He didn't have the kind of life anyone would write into a novel. It was barely worth inspiring a drabble.

            Inukashi said, "The dogs won't walk themselves."

            And the silence broke.

            Shion smiled. "Your dogs are all very well behaved."

            "They haven't been to a single day of puppy school," said Inukashi proudly. "Strays are the most loyal of them, if you bother to give them a chance."

            "Inukashi will talk for hours about these mutts," said Nezumi.

            "I understand why."

            Nezumi didn't. Maybe it was just something to say. Shion couldn't of figured anyone out so quickly. He had no right to  be a puzzle and read people like open books.

            Nezumi pulled Daddy lightly and the dog obediently trotted after him. "The dogs won't walk themselves," he droned.

***

Hamlet crawled over Nezumi's knee.

            Cravat was banished from the living room the moment Nezumi had brought him in. Inukashi had demanded that Nezumi "keep that savage beast away from me." It would be a little amusing, but Inukashi's eyes were bright and dangerous and they wouldn't stop pacing. So Cravat went back in the cage for the time being.

            Inukashi turned on their heels and lay on the floor. Daddy walked over and placed himself next to Inukashi, pressing his flank against Inukashi's side. Inukashi rolled over until they and Daddy were in some weird eternity embrace.

            The other two dogs eyed Hamlet with interest, but didn't show the faintest sign of moving.  Nezumi knew he would have to get around to learning their names some day, but he couldn't care less right now.

            The living room was too quiet. It was never so quiet. There usually had been at least two death threats being mumbled with Nezumi and Inukashi in the same room for so long. But neither of them had threatened murder yet.

            Nezumi knew they were empty threats. He hadn't been stabbed in his sleep yet. But without the violent banter, the air seemed heavy. He steadied Hamlet as he shifted and lay on the sofa. Hamlet perked up and ran across Nezumi's stomach, before he settled in Nezumi's armpit.

            What a nice bed.

            Silence.

            It spanned minutes. If they had a radio or a TV, there would be some noise. Some droning constant in the background. Inukashi was breathing heavier than they usually did, but it still wasn't enough to make the room seem alive.

            A mumble.

            "I can't hear you," Nezumi replied.

            "Hey," said Inukashi.

            "Hey?"

            "Do you want information?"

            Information from Inukashi usually meant "I stalked a bit and maybe possibly perhaps did something a _little_ illegal". It was a whole, big unsavoury thing.

            "Who would I want information about?"

            Maybe Rikiga. Find the next thing to make him tick until he finally fired him from the coffee shop. That guy took so much abuse from Nezumi, it made him wonder if Rikiga actually liked that kind of stuff. That whole blackmail, emotional manipulation, reputation ruining sort of stuff.

            Maybe Safu. Something to bring her down to his level. She was not an ethereal being or royalty. Even though she was seeming more human to him that she had at first, it still seemed like she had some sort of complex.

            Maybe Shion.

            "Whoever," said Inukashi, shrugging their shoulders as effectively as they could lying on the floor.

            Nezumi quirked an eyebrow, even though he knew Inukashi couldn't see it. He let the incredulity slip into his voice. "You have information of everyone I could possibly know?"

            "I have information on the one you care about."

            "I don't want your information."

            Nezumi tried to find pictures in the popcorn ceiling, the uneven texture and shadows forming the illusion of images to a creative mind.

            Inukashi let out a deep, shaking breath.

            "Why?" they demanded.

            "There's a catch," Nezumi said. "Even if you say there isn't, I'll still owe you."

            "Can't a friend do something nice for once?"

            "Since when are we friends?"

            Inukashi paused. "Can't a roommate do something nice for once?"

            "You can buy more milk," Nezumi told them.

            He could practically feel the fury radiating off Inukashi in waves. Maybe sarcasm wasn't the right way to deal with this. What other way was there? Safu would snap. Rikiga would schmooze. Shion would show compassion.

            That's what Nezumi thought they would do, anyway.

            It occurred to Nezumi that he had a very little social circle. Rikiga was an annoyance. Safu was a barrier. Shion was a mystery. Inukashi was fuming.

            They raised their head, open and closed their mouth like a dying fish, then put it down against Daddy's fur.

            Something was wrong.

            Nezumi didn't want to deal with it.

            "I'm going to bed," said Nezumi. He gently nudged Hamlet, who got to his feet and yawned. Then he scooped the rat up under the belly and stretched his free hand over his head.

            "Wait," said Inukashi.

            Nezumi looked over at them and they blinked up at him. "Ten dollars and I'll tell you if Shion is single."

            Nezumi scoffed and walked into his room.

            The door slammed behind him.

            Why would he need that information? Maybe Inukashi's instincts were getting dull. Nezumi shrugged his shoulders and put Hamlet down on the bed. Cravat was stretched against the wire of the cage, hands grasping the bars. He looked like a little prisoner.

            "Yeah, yeah," Nezumi grumbled, unlatching the cage and letting Cravat walk onto his hand. "You know, you're apparently a fierce predator. According to the dog freak."

            He put Cravat onto the bed sheets, and the two rats did a little ratty greeting. Nezumi sat at the corner of the mattress and watched the rats wander towards him. "If it wasn't horribly impossible, I would say that maybe you two are the ones descended from wolves instead of the wimpy dogs in this house."

            The rats didn't answer.

            "Cravat's a fearsome hunter and Hamlet's a literature nerd," said Nezumi idly.

            If he wanted a pet that could talk back, he would have gotten a parrot. But he believed that Inukashi would teach the bird a variety of words that were inappropriate if used in the wrong context.

            An example of correct context: The bitch birthed four puppies.

            The wrong context was anything that Inukashi would teach the bird to say. It would probably call Nezumi a bitch a lot and whistle at his ass when he walked by.

            "Hamlet's a better human than most people I know."

            He paused.

            "I mean, you have better taste in books than a lot of people as well. You like Shakespeare."

            Hamlet climbed up on Nezumi's knee again. It was like his own little perch, one where he could safely watch the world without fear of falling.

            "Only the most intelligent people like Shakespeare. His work is not a chore you have to read because of school. It's a gift."

            Nezumi wondered who liked Shakespeare.

            He wondered if Safu liked Shakespeare. She didn't really seem the type. Maybe she liked paranormal romance.

            He wondered if Shion liked Shakespeare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i need disclaimers.  
> i really love safu. i kind of feel like she wasn't portrayed well in the series. we weren't given much of her to go off of. hopefully i'm able to make her better later on. i need to get the hang of writing her better tbh.  
> 


	5. Chapter Five

There was a puddle on the floor that looked suspiciously like piss.

            Nezumi rubbed his hands over his face in a little exasperated gesture. The men's bathroom was usually grosser than the women's. But there had been an accident involving a decent splattering of puke in the women's bathroom earlier than night, and some poor guy was still cleaning it up.

            He moved to the next stall and shut the door.

            He closed the lid of the toilet and put his backpack there. There was no way in hell he was going to put his belongings on the floor here. He combed his fingers through his hair. It was getting too long, but there was no one he trusted to cut it. There was something about scissors close to his head that he didn't quite like.

            When he took off his dress, he tried carefully to avoid letting the hem brush the ground. Even the tiles were grimy at the best of times. He didn't care so much about his street clothes. They were cheap, old, and kind of smelled.

            The last thing he did before leaving the stall was tie his hair into a loose ponytail. Strands stuck to the back of his neck and to his forehead, but that didn't matter. He might always be an actor, but the world was not always a show. He didn't always have to look his best.

            Nezumi folded his dress into the backpack and carried it out of the bathroom. His eyes scanned the dance floor as he walked by. And, surprisingly, there was Rikiga standing in the corner. Alone. Shockingly, not in the storage room feeling up some woman.

            Right.

            He started to walk over to Rikiga. There was no shock of white hair anywhere near him. The closest thing to that was a head of platinum blonde.

            Nezumi had started noticing completely unnecessary things.

            The backpack was light as air, but it was easier to shrug it onto his shoulders. Enough people bumped into him, either on purpose or on accident. Maybe some people's ideas of flirting were to knock people on their asses rather than sweeping them off their feet. Nezumi didn't care.

            It was just easier to avoid smacking people with his bag if it was hanging off his back.

            When he got close enough to Rikiga, he leaned against the wall. He wanted to see how long it would take the man to notice his presence.

            "Eve."

            Obviously not very long.

            "Rikiga," said Nezumi in the same serious tone.

            "I wanted to talk to you."

            "Is it about the money you owe me?"

            Rikiga cleared his throat, his face going pink. "I gave you a job, you half-rate actor. Consider that payment."

            "Not good enough," said Nezumi, inspecting his nails. But his eyes still cut to Rikiga a moment later.

            The man was fuming. It wasn't hard to imagine smoke pouring out of his ears. His hands were balled into fists, and he was frowning almost cartoonishly.

            "I want to talk to you," Rikiga said.

            "You are talking," Nezumi pointed out.

            Rikiga snapped, "Can we talk without _you pissing me off?_ "

            "I don't see how it's my fault that you can't control your temper."

            "Eve," ground out Rikiga.

            "Let me guess," Nezumi said. "You've decided to take up my offer. You really do want to watch me change. I knew you were disgusting."

            " _No,_ " said Rikiga.

            "Am I fired?"

            "I wish," said Rikiga. "But I get too much business because of your _fame._ "

            Just the way Rikiga said 'fame' made Nezumi think that he was nobody. What did the world expect from him, exactly? He was nineteen. Kids these days weren't exactly overthrowing evil governments or killing dragons. That only happened in novels and daydreams.

            "Then what do you want?"

            Rikiga opened his mouth like he was expecting Nezumi to spit out some kind of smart-assitude. Then he closed it. His eyes cut away from Nezumi and his eyebrows drew together.

            "It's okay," said Nezumi. "Take all the time you need. It's not like I have to work at a shitty coffee shop in the morning."

            He still had to master that small coffee for Shion, after all. And he couldn't do it while sleep deprived.

            "You were talking to Shion," said Rikiga.

            "Shion? That's a name I would remember," Nezumi drawled. "And it doesn't ring any bells, sorry."

            "You shitty-- I saw you talking to him two weeks ago."

            Inukashi was effectively taking Shion's every order. Nezumi would have definitely served him a perfect coffee earlier. It was Inukashi's fault. As for not talking to Rikiga, Nezumi would take all the credit for that.

            "Oooh," said Nezumi. " _That_ Shion."

            "Ha ha ha," Rikiga spat. " _Of course that Shion."_

"I was helping him find some sleazy old man," Nezumi said. "He was looking for a 'Rikiga', if that name means anything to you."

            "Ha ha ha," repeated Rikiga dryly.

            The music beat like a heart. Nezumi could feel it in his stomach. He hated the shitty pop they played at No. 6. But he couldn't imagine anyone twerking to classical music.

            Rikiga was saying something and Nezumi wasn't listening.

            "I was ignoring you," lied Nezumi.

            Rikiga said, "How's Shion doing?"

            Nezumi stared at the man. Was this some kind of trick question? He said, "I thought you would know" before the lull in the conversation spread too long.

            "Of course I know," Rikiga spluttered. "But he doesn't always tell me everything. Maybe you know something I don't. You're _friends_ right."     

            The way Rikiga said friends sounded like it physically pained the man to say such preposterous things.       

            That's exactly what it was. Preposterous.

            "No," Nezumi said. "We are not friends. Obviously Shion tells you very, very little."

            "Look, Eve," said Rikiga.

            And, oh god, he was using his grating 'diplomatic' voice. It was that condescending sort of trying-too-hard tone. It wasn't at all as diplomatic as Rikiga seemed to think it was.

            In that tone, Rikiga continued, "I just want to know if Shion's doing okay. It's not an unreasonable thing to ask."

            "It's unreasonable to assume that I know how he's doing."

            "He goes to the coffee shop, for god's sake!"

            "You think I actually care enough to talk to your customers?"

            This conversation was going nowhere. Rikiga seemed to have the same thought, as he mumbled something that sounded oddly similar to what Nezumi was thinking.

            "You still owe me money," Nezumi reminded him.

            "And you owe me information."

            "Information is Inukashi's job."

***

Whatever god was watching over Nezumi that day had a strange sense of humour. He walked into the coffee shop a few minutes late, and looked for Inukashi at the counter. But Inukashi wasn't behind the counter like a good employee. Inukashi wasn't there at all.

            Rikiga eyed Nezumi like he was something particularly unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Like that piece of gum that just won't come off no matter how much you scratched at it.

            "Eve," greeted Rikiga. "You're late."

            The shop didn't open for another few minutes, so it wasn't like Rikiga was drowning in customers and shitty coffee.

            "Sorry about that," Nezumi said even though he wasn't exactly sorry. "Some old man kept me late at No. 6. I just wanted to go home and sleep, but he insisted on telling me his woes."

            Rikiga's jaw clenched. He was probably preparing to futilely protest about his age or his woes or something equally irrelevant. So Nezumi turned around and tied his hair up into a loose bun. "We should open."

            "Don't tell me what to do," grumbled Rikiga. "I own this place."

            But he still went and propped the door open. It was a cool day, and the air smelled like rain. Rikiga crouched in front of the chalkboard and wrote a simple "Come In, We're Open!" Nezumi snatched the chalk from his hand. That earned him an ugly expression, and so did the rat he drew at that corner of the board.

            "We don't have rats," said Rikiga.

            "Not every place can be perfect," Nezumi replied.

             Rikiga stormed off. There was really no place he could go other than behind the counter, so he did exactly that, leaning against his elbows and pouting.

            It looked almost comical to see that childish expression on Rikiga's face, but Nezumi didn't bother to laugh.

            "Where's Inukashi?" asked Nezumi.

            "Don't you two live together," sneered Rikiga.

            "That doesn't mean I know where they are," said Nezumi.

            "Inukashi called in sick at some ungodly hour."

            "Hm."

            The coffee shop was pretty much the worst place to work, next to No. 6. Inukashi treated their job like it was something precious, though. Maybe it was to them.

            Nezumi stood straight and stretched his arms over his head. A jumbled yawn fell out of his lips. He started to wander back to the counter, but a voice stopped him.

            "Nice rat."

            Despite the cloudy weather, Shion wore a baseball hat. He shifted a bit under Nezumi's stare. Nezumi had never known anyone to wear those hats when it looked like rain, not even the soccer dads who seemed to have them attached to their skulls.

            "Nice hat," said Nezumi back.

            Shion's whole face got red. "Mom's angry at me because I haven't been wearing it. I burn really easily. She worries about me."

            It seemed that Shion had no say in what he wore today. The baseball cap, a long sleeved shirt, long pants. What a practical summer outfit.

            "It's a Mama's job to worry," said Nezumi. "Don't you know that?"

            There was a clang behind him. Nezumi guessed that Rikiga was finally aware of Shion's presence. So Nezumi did what any good employee would do. He pulled the doorstop away from where it sat.

            "What are you doing?" asked Shion.

            The door closed slowly, chiming a funeral march as it did. It did, however, close faster than Rikiga got there. He wore a dangerous expression on his face as he pushed the door open.

            "Give me that, Eve," snapped Rikiga, snatching the doorstop out of Nezumi's hands.

            Rikiga's whole face was red with anger. Shion's whole face was red for an entirely different, unknown reason. He covered his mouth to cough, but Nezumi caught the little smile on his lips.

            "I'm just trying to make Shion laugh," said Nezumi. "It's my job to make the customers happy."

            It was barely half a lie.

            Rikiga says, "It's your job to listen to me, so go back to work and make coffee."

            Nezumi saluted them as he walked to the counter. He switched over the pots and absently wiped the counters. There was really not much to do in this place.

            "Hey Shion," called Nezumi when he got bored. Which took about a minute. "Do you want the usual?"

            Apparently Rikiga had been saying something, because he shot Nezumi a venomous look. Shion looked passed Rikiga and smiled at him, with a little nod.

            It was a small cup, Nezumi was certain. Well, it was at least the smallest cup they had and he didn't think they served kiddie cups of coffee.

            Rikiga was saying something else, but Nezumi asked loudly, "Shion, do you want anything in it?"

            "No, it's fine. Thanks, Nezumi."

            "Don't thank me," Nezumi told him. "You're paying."

            Rikiga's head snapped around. "He's not paying for anything."

            "Okay," said Nezumi. "It's on the house, Shion. From me to you."

            "From me," grumbled Rikiga.

            Nezumi put the coffee on the counter and snapped on the lid. Then he waited. And waited. And Rikiga and Shion were still talking. Oh god, it was grating when Rikiga laughed.

            "How's school going?" asked Rikiga.

            "It's going well," Shion said.

            Nezumi smiled to himself when Shion said 'well' rather than 'good'.

            "University is hard though, isn't it?"

            And damn, Nezumi hated being surprised by people. Maybe Chronos was accepting anyone nowadays, even airheads like Shion. Or maybe Shion was smarter than Nezumi thought and Nezumi had misread him.

            Again.

            "It is," said Shion, nodding. "And it's even harder if I miss class. Which is why I should be going."

            "Don't forget your coffee," said Rikiga.

            Shion picked up the coffee with a smile, and dropped coins on the counter. "You're helping pay for my schooling," Shion said, turning his head to Rikiga. "I think I can pay for my own coffee."

            Maybe it was a matter of pride or maybe Shion just wanted to seem a little less helpless.

            Either way, he succeeded in impressing Nezumi.

            "Thanks, Nezumi," said Shion.

            "Anytime, your Highness," said Nezumi quietly, just so Rikiga didn't hear and scold him.

            As Shion left, Rikiga joined Nezumi behind the counter. It was odd to see the man beaming proudly, but there he was.

            "Shion's a good kid," said Rikiga. "Don't do anything to change that."

            What?

            Nezumi didn't want to ask what Rikiga meant, because then he might get an answer he didn't want.

            Light always gets polluted by the darkness. Or was it the other way around? Nezumi was unsure about that, and it just made him the slightest bit uncomfortable.


	6. Chapter Six

Nezumi felt like he was in a mystery novel. Under the door, he could see that the lights were on in Inukashi and his apartment. Inukashi might be a little shit, but they were not the type of little shit to skip work without a reason. That meant there was something wrong. Nezumi found that he didn't care.

            Inukashi wasn't the type of person to spill their problems to someone else, especially if that someone else was Nezumi. It was pride, Nezumi knew. It was a survival instinct.

            Now, Nezumi wasn't exactly going to ask what was wrong. He doubted Inukashi would give him the chance.

            Minutes had passed. Nezumi had been standing outside his own house for minutes. Just an idiot standing outside his own house. With a little sigh, he unlocked the door.

            When thrown, the worst thing a stuffed animal could do was break an important vase or something equally as lame and breakable. A tennis ball could cause a little more damage, especially to a face or crotch area. Those rope dog toys could end up messing up someone if swung with enough conviction.

            But a bone? One of those heavy rawhide things? That could seriously mess someone up.

            Good thing Nezumi was expecting it.

            The bone hit against the wall with a heavy noise. This apartment building had thin, cheap walls. If Inukashi's anger put a hole in the shitty wall, then they would be the one paying to fix it. Inukashi was barricaded behind pillows. They sat on the floor, dog on either side. The cushions were torn off the sofa, blankets strewn across the floor.

            Nezumi took a step forward and glass crunched under his foot. He looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked.

            Inukashi snarled like a wild animal. Their eyes were equally as dangerous as the expression. If looks could kill, Nezumi would be dead in a moment.

            The dogs didn't even make a move to greet him. What fickle creatures.

            "Do you know what happened?" Inukashi said, voice breaking with bitter laughter.

            "You've finally lost your mind."

            Inukashi jumped to their feet. Hands balled into fists at their side, their small frame almost looked threatening. It would be worse if they had a knife, or a gun, or even another rawhide bone.

            It was a tense thing at best. This little life they'd built, it could easily fall apart. And it seemed like that was just what was happening.

            Nezumi didn't exactly regret that it was breaking. Inukashi was a shitty roommate.

            "You're a really heartless person, you realize that?" Inukashi spat.

            "And what did I do this time?"

            Inukashi sat down with a furious huff.  They scratched Dog One behind the ear, while Dog Two put its muzzle on Inukashi's knee. Nezumi really needed to learn their names, maybe their genders. If he was feeling generous, he'd learn their favourite treats.

            He'd do that once he memorized the menu at the coffee shop.

            After a short time in silence, Nezumi decided to say, "Use your words, Inukashi."

            If Nezumi had to pinpoint the moment where Inukashi completely lost it, it would be the minute that followed.

            "Fuck. Okay, you want me to talk? We'll talk. What's missing from this room, Nezumi?"

            "Your sanity."

            "Daddy."

            "Oh, right. That thing."

            Inukashi spat, "He wasn't a thing."

            "Wasn't?"

            Dog Two raised its big eyes to Nezumi, but there was no puppy-dog warmth in them. It looked like the kind of dog that would rip out some guy's jugular. And maybe it would, if Inukashi told it to.

            "Wasn't. You caught that, Nezumi? You're good with words and stuff, so what does that mean?"

            "You finally ditched his old, flea-ridden self at the park?"

            He couldn't help it. Inukashi was attacking him. It might not be an attack to the level of a fist fight, but he was being shot at with words. And he had to fire bullets back.

            Inukashi was on their feet again. "Or I had to put him down."

            "Why?"

            "Because I didn't have the money. Obviously." Their voice faltered, as if they were expecting another cruel comment.

            "Ah," Nezumi said. Then he let out a laugh. "Is that what all the 'kindness' was about last week? 'Give me ten dollars and I'll tell you if Shion is single'? That shit?"

            Inukashi said, "He's dead because you wouldn't help me pay for surgery."

            "I didn't even know he was sick."

            "Did you even see him? He was so obviously sick! The way he breathed, his eyes? The way he walked? Are you blind?"

            "I'm not a crazy dog person."

            Inukashi was yelling again, moving towards Nezumi with their hands in fists. Nezumi quickly sidestepped them, then trotted into his room and locked the door. He and Inukashi had decided, when they agreed to share the apartment, that they would put locks on the bedrooms. Privacy and safety.

            Cravat and Hamlet chattered at him. He looked down at them, then towards the locked door.

            Inukashi was still yelling.

            The dogs were both barking.

            "Okay," Nezumi said.

            He pulled open the drawers to his dresser. At best, he would be gone for the night. At worst, a week or two. Maybe more, he didn't know. Shit happens, and now the shit had hit the fan.

            It was a cheap apartment, which was a bonus rather than a curse. Nezumi didn't want them to get kicked out because of rash decisions.

            With his backpack stuffed with clothes, he turned back to the rats.

            There was a bang on his door.

            He had to take them. He had too little trust in Inukashi, and they had never liked the rats. Apparently, Nezumi had killed Daddy. He wouldn't put it past Inukashi to kill Hamlet or Cravat. They were "just rats".

            Nezumi rubbed his hands over his face. Things were crumbling.

            He dug the travel carrier out from under his bed. He opened the cage and placed them carefully inside.       

            This was not ideal.

            He couldn't bring a cage, or food, or anything really.

            Shit.

            Give him the opportunity, and he'd spew facts about rats in a stream of word vomit. These animals, specifically his little pets, made him human.

            Lightning cut through the sky. He could see it through his window. If he left them, Inukashi would kill the things that made him human. If he took them, he could possibly kill those things.

            What would hurt more?

***

The lobby kind of smelled like feet.

            It was a bad smell. The kind of smell that permeated everything: clothes, furniture, walls. It registered in Nezumi's mind that he would stink of it for the next few days. He could wander to a laundromat after everything blows over, and wash the hell out of all his stuff. Even the backpack.

            Nezumi had gotten to the lobby, with no clear plan in mind. There had been no casualties walking from his room out the door. Inukashi had temporarily retreated to their room. Maybe they were formulating murder plans.

            The dogs had bared their teeth at Nezumi as he walked by.

            He had been tempted to kick those teeth in.

            An oily man looked over at Nezumi as the rats squeaked. He had a look in his eye, not quite equivalent to Inukashi's murderous glare, but pretty damn close. Being Inukashi's roommate could have softened the dog lover's hatred towards Nezumi. Mostly because Nezumi was the only one who remembered to buy carrots, which were, apparently, as good as toothbrushes for dogs.

            Dog people were strange. Nezumi could not think it enough.

            The guy turned towards Nezumi and started forward. He walked with a slouchy kind of style, hands in his pockets. Maybe he thought it made him cool or maybe he was trying to hide a switchblade.

            The guy was close enough to not shout, but he did anyway. "What've you got there?" was what he chose to say. Not very eloquent, if Nezumi were to judge.

            "A cat," said Nezumi dryly.

            One of the rat's squeaked. Nezumi coughed loudly. The guy's eyebrows drew together, as if to say "what the hell?" Nezumi was honestly thinking the same thing.

            "Cats don't squeak," said the guy. He leaned his head down. "Those aren't cats," he said again, dumbly. As if it wasn't obvious to begin with.

            "They aren't?" Nezumi exclaimed, putting a hand to his heart. "The breeder must have lied to me."

            "Yes, I think they're mice."

            Oh god, this guy was an idiot. Nezumi could lecture him for quite a while about how rats and mice were different. He drew in a breath, but the guy said, "You can't have those in here."

            "Really? But look at how cute they are," Nezumi intoned flatly.

            Even if the guy looked tough, Nezumi expected him to have the same, automatic reaction that the dainty women had on TV. The "omigod" then jump on a chair reaction. Sure enough, Nezumi noticed that the guy shivered a bit, looking distinctly unsettled at the sight of the rats crawling around the carrier.

            "Get out," the guy demanded. "Before people start to think there's an infestation."

            "They're both males," said Nezumi. "There will be no infestation."

            "Really?"

            "Well, sometimes people take creative liberties and two guys..."

            "Get out."

            And while Nezumi firmly believed he could best that guy in a fight, he left. He pushed against the door, feeling the chilled, humid air of the night.  He looked down at the carrier as the rats squeaked loudly.

            If either of the rats got sick because of Inukashi's hissy fit, he would charge damages. Money was a cheap payment. Maybe one of Inukashi's teeth would do the job, but only if Nezumi was the one to knock it out.

            Rain beat down on him, and he attempted to shield the carrier with his oversized raincoat.

            People eyed his with suspicion as he walked down the street. Maybe Nezumi, hunched over and carrying rather pissed rats, looked like someone they didn't want to deal with. He wasn't bothered by anyone. What a surprise.

            The bus shelter was his saving grace, he liked to think. At the border of Lost Town, there was a lonely little bus stop. It had rather obscene graffiti spray-painted on one glass wall, but other than that, it was perfect. A miracle.

            He sat as far from the door as possible, stretching his legs across the bench and putting the carrier on his knees. Two sets of beady eyes stared at him through the mesh front.

            "Yeah, I know," said Nezumi. "This was stupid."

            He rubbed his hands over his face. "Believe it or not, I can do stupid things."

            A moment later, "Should I have just paid that idiot Inukashi for the information?"

            A pause, and then, "Not that I care at all."

            The rats squeaked again, the noise cutting through the sound of the rain. Nezumi liked that about rain. It was always background noise. Never really something you had to pay attention to, but it was nice, calming.

            "What are you doing?"

            Of course.

            This was the universe's idea of a joke, wasn't it?

            Or was it a "speak of the devil" situation?

            It really didn't matter.  

            "I am," said Nezumi, "waiting for a bus. That is what people do in bus shelters."

            "It's almost midnight. Buses don't run," said Shion.

            "Ah," said Nezumi. "You got me."

            He lifted the carrier and settled it onto his lap before shifting into a sitting position. Shion, apparently, took that as an invitation to sit. Right next to Nezumi. Great.

            "You still haven't told me what you're doing."

            Ever so patient. Maybe Shion was a saint. Saint Shion had a certain ring to it. Nezumi yawned into his fist.

            "I am homeless for the night," Nezumi drawled, like it wasn't a big deal.

            It was kind of a big deal, but he would never admit it aloud.

            "You could come to my house."

            No hesitation. _Saint Shion._ It was a thing now.

            Wow, Nezumi was getting tired. It was hard to keep a guard up when he could barely keep his eyes open.

            But his eyes snapped open at that.

            "What?"

            "My house? I live just over there, on top of the bakery."

            "I knew that," snapped Nezumi. He did know, not for stalkerish reasons. Safu and her loud mouth told him and he just couldn't forget it.

            "Uh."

            No, he wasn't lost for words. That was impossible.

            "Do you have room for three," he said in a drawl, after a moment.

            Shion looked a little confused for a moment, before staring at the carrier. Hamlet and Cravat's little ratty noses were sticking out the side.

            "Yes," said Shion.

            "Scandalous," said Nezumi, getting to his feet. "Rats in a bakery. What would your Mama say? Karan, right?"

            "It wouldn't be the first time," Shion said it like a joke, but Nezumi didn't quite understand.

            So he said, "Remind me never to buy my bread from your place."

            Shion shrugged. "It's good bread."

            Nezumi readjusted his backpack on his shoulders and squeezed the handle of the carrier until his knuckles were white. "Do you do this often?"

            "What?"          

            "Invite random strangers to come to your house at midnight?"

            "You're not a stranger."

            And Nezumi was quiet for the rest of the short walk, thinking.

           

         

           

           

           

           

 


	7. Chapter Seven

It's unnatural for human beings to be so nice. From what Nezumi knew of people, they were petty, bland, selfish. Sometimes sexy, sometimes not. Sometimes they were interesting enough to warrant a second glance, usually not.

            Shion had deserved a second glance, a third glance, a fourth. Hell, Nezumi was staring at him right now.

Of course, he had offered hot chocolate. At midnight. Why not?

            _Saint Shion._

He was waiting for the kettle to whistle, running his hand through his hair. He looked back at Nezumi over his shoulder. Nezumi looked away, but not before he caught Shion's smile.

            "What?" Nezumi asked grumpily.

            "I forgot about my other two guests," Shion said.

            The rat carrier sat at Nezumi's feet on the tiles. Hamlet and Cravat were squeaking in interest whenever Shion moved, and Nezumi just knew that they wanted to explore around this whole house. And the bakery. Maybe nibble on the leftover baked goods.

            That wasn't exactly hygienic.

            "What exactly do you have planned?" asked Nezumi.

            Shion did have that certain look on his face, the "I've got an idea" look. He gestured towards the wooden stairs with his hands, before taking a step towards them.

            "Are you taking me to your room?" drawled Nezumi. "Is that not just a little bit forward?"

            "Come on," insisted Shion. "And bring the rats."

            "Hamlet and Cravat," Nezumi said quietly.

            "Bring Hamlet and Cravat," Shion said.

            He had heard. And he had corrected himself.

            No, there was definitely not a _feeling_ blossoming in Nezumi's chest. And if there was, it was because he was just overly tired.

            Overtiredness was a dangerous thing.

            Nezumi picked up the carrier and followed Shion up the stairs. Set along the walls were, no doubt, embarrassing childhood pictures of Shion. Each with a little label at the bottom. But Nezumi didn't let his gaze linger long. He had no right to pry at this. Whatever this was. Shion's past. His ugly polka dotted sweater from some child year aside.

            It wasn't important to know.

            Shion pushed open a door in a short hallway and flipped on a light. The whole room lit up. It wasn't worth any extravagant description. The light just kind of flickered on. But it showed the room. Shion's room. It showed Shion.

            It was a simple room, no grand decorations. It wasn't necessarily a clean room, but it seemed like one of those rooms where the owner knew just where everything was. A little stuffed bear leaned against a lamp on a bedside table. A desk was strewn with papers. A window sat open across from the messily made bed. And--

            "What is that?" asked Nezumi.

            Shion shifted and looked back to smile, albeit a little awkwardly. "I figured that Hamlet and Cravat would rather spend their night in a cage than in that tiny little carrier."

           The cage was more than a little fancy. Like, the kind with four stories and hammocks. Like a little ratty mansion. Nezumi squinted.

            "Why?" he said.

            "Because the cage seems a much better option," answered Shion.

            "No, I mean, why do you own this?"

            "Oh!" Shion said, his face going a little red. "I had a rat, but he died."

            "Singular? A singular rat?"

            "Yeah."

            And Nezumi tried to hold back the word vomit of rat facts, he really did. But he couldn't. He said, "You realize he probably died of loneliness then? They're not meant to be alone. It wears on their mental health. I mean..."

            Nezumi cleared his throat.

            There. He managed to stop the spew of unwelcome rat facts.

            "Ah," said Shion, then he paused. Thoughtfully.

            Nezumi placed the curious Hamlet and Cravat into their cage (mansion) for the night. They ran around to explore their new rat heaven.

            Shion said, "Do you imagine that will happen to you?"

            "What?" Nezumi looked over his shoulder.

            "Can people die of loneliness too?"

            "I imagine so."

            "You seem like the loneliest person I know," Shion stated.

            Nezumi stood straight. He was only an inch taller than Shion, at best, but he wondered if he looked intimidating then. Did he want to? Was he going to push Shion away? That would confirm the white-haired boy's suspicions, wouldn't it? The other option was equally as terrifying. Not that Nezumi was afraid. He was just a little unsettled.

            No one read him so easily.

            "Why would you say that?" asked Nezumi.

            That wasn't welcoming or unwelcoming. It was a question that just was.

            "Who would you call a friend?" Shion asked.

            Of course, the answer to Shion's question could be one of two things. One: the usual approach one has to such things. As in shooting back a "is that any of your business?". It was though. Nezumi found that it might just be Shion's business.

            Two: just answer the damn question.

            "Ah, you got me. I have no friends."

            Word vomit that wasn't rat facts. How strange.

            Shion’s eyes, which had been locked on Nezumi’s, drifted to the ugly hardwood on the floor. There was a ghost of a smile on his mouth, one that lit up Shion’s face but didn’t appear on his lips.

            “Do you really believe that?” asked Shion.

            Nezumi shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me,” he told Shion. “I mean, I’ve been alone for most of my life.”

            The telltale smile disappeared from Shion’s eyes. “Really?”

            “Do you think I would lie about something so tragic?” drawled Nezumi.

            “Ah,” said Shion.

            The kettle screaming was a welcome distraction. At least, Nezumi had thought it would be. Shion  stared at him owlishly for a moment more, until Nezumi told him, “That thing will wake up your mama if you don’t get it.”        

            “Right,” said Shion, turning on his heels and walking out of the room. Nezumi didn’t realize he was following Shion until he was halfway down the stairs. He forced himself to stop. What was he doing?

            He chewed his bottom lip, turning his gaze over to the embarrassing wall of Shion’s childhood. The pictures ranged from pudgy toddler cheeks to awkward smiles in middle school. Nezumi’s teeth against his lip became painful for a moment, until he took a calming breath. Even then, he knew he’d chew through his fucking lip if he didn’t do something.

            Anything.

            Bitter memories left a bad feeling in his brain, made his mouth taste like vile and a little bit like blood.

            “Nezumi is an interesting name.”

            Hello, distraction.

            “It is,” said Nezumi, turning to look down the stairs at Shion. He held a mug, one with a pattern of penguins printed on the side. “I am an interesting person.”

            “I’ve noticed.”

            “Really?” Nezumi drawled, walking down the few steps. Shion held out the penguin mug with one hand and gestured for Nezumi to take it with the other.

            “Yes,” Shion said.

            Nezumi took the mug in his hands and moved to sit at the table. Shion stood for a moment, and Nezumi faltered a bit. The little bit of adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him bone tired. It was creeping into the edges of his vision.

            “I could argue that you’re the interesting one,” said Nezumi before taking a sip of hot chocolate. The liquid was hot against his tongue, but he tried not to make a big deal of it. He set the mug down.

            “What makes me interesting, other than this?”Shion gestured to himself.

            “You just gestured to all of you,” Nezumi said dryly.

            Shion’s cheeks turned an extravagant red. “I meant the albinism.”

            “Right, of course.”

            A smile flit over Shion’s lips. “Even you’ve mentioned my hair. And my eyes.”

            Nezumi said, “Even me? Do you think I’m different than anyone else, Shion?”

            “I’d like you to be.”

            Tiredness made people brash. It made people confused. Sometimes it made people loud and obnoxious and act a little out of order. And, at that moment, it made Nezumi giggle. Not laugh, but giggle.

            “What?” Nezumi managed to say.

            “I’m not good with people,” Shion began, and it seemed like he had more to say after his deep, relaxing breath.

            But Nezumi interrupted, “No shit.”

            Then he giggled again. He tried to cover it up with a cough. It was barely effective at best.

            Nezumi took a long sip of hot chocolate the next second. Shion looked like he was gathering his thoughts, and Nezumi just wanted to sleep.

            It was too late for any more of a heart-to-heart. Especially with Shion.

            The grit at the bottom of the mug was hardly appealing, so Nezumi put it down on the table with a yawn.

            “Do you want the bed or the floor?” Shion asked.

            “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me into bed?” asked Nezumi.

            “If you’re awake enough to be smart, then I guess you’re not really that tired,” Shion mumbled.

            What a cruel world. What a cruel sentence. Nezumi just wanted to sleep. “I’ll take the floor. I’ve had worse.”

            Shion smiled. “Like a bus shelter.”

            “Among other places.”

***

                Nezumi knew it was jarring to wake up in an unfamiliar place.

            He knew it.

            His eyes flickered open. He was sandwiched between Shion's dresser and bed. Neither of those things were too close to him to make him uncomfortable. He assumed that the one quietly snoring out of view was Shion. It was unlikely he was wrong about that.

            It was jarring to wake up in an unfamiliar place, right? 

            Then why didn't he feel at least a little frazzled? He lifted his head high enough to read the red numbers on the clock. What person woke up at 6:24am, given the night he'd just had? With a little noise of irritation, Nezumi sat up. The rats squeaked their greetings. At that, Shion mumbled and rolled over in his sleep. Nezumi looked away about two seconds after. He would not watch Shion sleep. That seemed a little creepy and a little excessive. 

            Wait. He looked down at his feet. He was starting to recognize his feeling. He frowned and got to his feet quickly. He grabbed the dresser for support. Just waking up and fast movements were never a good combination. Nezumi was perfectly capable of falling over, but he would prefer not to. 

            This place, it kind of felt like home. Maybe not any home Nezumi had known, but the kind of home someone was familiar with after reading it in a book. He must have read something similar to this morning; that must be it. Quiet snoring, rats muttering, the smell of baking wafting through the floor. What an interesting book. What an interesting scene.

            Nezumi released his death grip on the dresser and started walking to the door. Hamlet and Cravat voiced their protests at being left behind, but he knew better than to take them anywhere. This was, after all, a bakery. He opened the door softly, looking back over his shoulder. 

            Maybe Shion was one of those people who could sleep through lightning hitting their house or an apocalypse. He didn't stir when the door opened, and Nezumi couldn't hear him move when it closed. 

            In the light of the hallway, Nezumi looked down at himself. His clothes were sleep-ruffled, and his hair hung  messily past his shoulders. He'd never considered it was getting too long, but he did right then. He might have been stalling. Shion was quite a unique person on his own, but what were his parents like? Would his mama be a saint like him, or was he one who learned from his parent's mistakes?

            The only plausible solution that Nezumi's morning brain considered was to just jump headfirst into it and see. Of course, he wouldn't actually be jumping headfirst down the stairs. That would be a little ridiculous, not to mention dangerous. 

            So he walked down the steps like a normal person. 

            He guessed his footsteps were careless and loud enough to travel, because when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard a woman say, "Shion? You're awake early."

            And what does one even say in this situation? Nezumi stood, still as a statue, as the woman rounded the corner. She had a soft face like Shion's, a warm expression that shifted into something akin to confusion. This must be Karan of Karan's Bakery, Nezumi assumed. Unless it wasn't.

            So he said, "Shion's still asleep."

           The woman wiped her hands on her apron as she nodded, a small smile spreading over her face. How strange. She looked up at Nezumi and said, "That's normal. I'm Karan, and you must be a friend of my son's."

            Nezumi stared for a second. So Shion got the saintliness from his mom then. How terrifying, to have two genuinely good people in the Lost Town. What were they doing here? After a moment, Nezumi realized he might have stared too long, so he nodded and said, "Yes." He didn't think about it, not really.

            Until he did think about it, not a minute later, as a big smile tugged at Karan's lips. She took a step towards him. "Nice to meet you," she said.

            "Nezumi," he offered.

            "Ah," Karan said, as if his name meant something to her.

            The she promptly backed away as an oven timer rang. She pulled what seemed like loaf after loaf after loaf of bread out of the oven. Nezumi watched in something like amazement. "Do you bake everything here yourself?" he asked.

            "Shion helps," she said. "Sometimes."

            Nezumi could imagine that. He could imagine Shion helping anyone, really. He wandered closer to Karan, watching as she slid a tray of cookies into the still-warm oven. She lived in Lost Town. Why did she work so hard?

            "You know," Karan's voice brought Nezumi out of his thoughts. "Shion doesn't have many friends."

            "I never would have guessed." He'd meant to sound dry but he just sounded honest.

            "People are sometimes scared of him, you know. They judge him on how he looks instead of who he is. I think," she said, "that if people took the time to know him, they'd really like him."

            From what Nezumi had read in books, that sounded just like something a mother would say. It sounded like a typical thing, but something in Karan's voice made it a little different. Maybe it was the certainty, the caring. Nezumi couldn't be sure.

            "Ah," Nezumi said. Why did this family always make him lose his words?

            "But," Karan continued, "I'm glad you're his friend, at least."

            Nezumi wondered, for a moment, how to answer. Could he break Shion's mama's heart, just like that? Cruelty wasn't exactly a thing he specialized in. It just came naturally to him. Like compassion came naturally to Shion, Nezumi thought that maybe he was meant to be heartless. 

            "I'm glad too," Nezumi said.

            Dammit. 

            It was a losing fight. Denial never looked pretty on anyone. And Nezumi thought that people liked his looks more than his talent, so maybe he had to stop acting so ugly.

            Karan smiled. Nezumi returned that smile, just a little. 

            "Could I ask you a favour?" Nezumi asked. Those words tasted like acid on his tongue but he knew he had to say something now.

            "Okay?" Karan said. It sounded more like a question than a confirmation, but Nezumi continued before he lost his nerve.

            "My roommate, ah, kicked me out last night," Nezumi said. It sounded better than any other option he could say. "I'm going back tonight, but Shion has my rats upstairs and I'm wondering if he could keep them for a while. Until things blow over."

            Karan's lips twisted down for a moment. "You'd have to ask Shion," she said. "I think he misses having something to care for."

            It wasn't a no.

            Nezumi nodded and mumbled a "thank you". Karan smiled (Nezumi wondered how one person could smile so much without their face breaking) and returned to the oven.

            "Did I tell you," said Karan, "what happened when Shion first brought his rat home?"

            "I imagine it was similar to my roommate's reaction," Nezumi said.

            "I threw a fit. Shion was all innocent. He's perfected that face, you know. And--"

            "Mom, stop. He doesn't need to know this," Shion sighed from the bottom of the stairs. The he looked over to Nezumi, with sleep-mussed hair and half-asleep eyes. "Did she embarrass me too much?"

            "No more than you embarrass yourself, Highness, " Nezumi shot at him.

            Shion grinned faintly. Nezumi had to look away. One moment, he realized later on, could change your entire view of someone. And right then, that might have been the moment. 

            Karan asked "Shion, when does class start?" It was like Nezumi wasn't having an internal moment.

            Shion squinted up at the clock before saying, "Safu should be here in about five minutes."

            Karan fussed about the kitchen, muttering about this and that. Shion sat at the table, leaning forward on his elbows, "When do you start work, Nezumi?" 

            "In about five minutes," he said.

            "Shouldn't you be going then?"

            "Are you that eager to kick me out? I'm hurt."

            "I just don't want you to get fired," Shion insisted.

            "Right." Nezumi said. "Shion, am I your favourite barista?"

            "Yes. You're the only one who has messed up my order before. It's endearing."

            Nezumi felt heat rise to his face. Shion put his hands in front of his mouth and laughed into them. "You're blushing."

            "Believe it or not, Shion," Nezumi shot out. "I am capable of feeling all manner of human emotions."

            "Name a few."

            "Embarrassment is the one I'm feeling now. Or do you want me to make a list for you?"

            There was a knock on the door. Shion actually sighed a bit before getting to his feet. He wandered to the door, pulling it open. "Hey, Safu."

            She had a bag slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face. "Hello." 

            Her eyes flickered passed Shion, and Nezumi knew he had never felt more awkward in his entire life. The little, honest smile fell from her face, and she said, "Why is he here?"

            "Long story," Shion said, shooing her out. "I'll tell you on the way to school."

            Shion hurried to grab his bag, under his mother's curious eyes. Nezumi said, "Shion?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Babysit my rats for me?"

            "Nezumi," Shion said. "It almost sounds like you trust me."

            "So what if I do?"

           


	8. Chapter Eight

Moments after Shion left, Nezumi got to his feet. His job was shit, and he really didn't want to go, but he needed the money. As much as he tried to act like it didn't matter around Shion, he really had to get to work. He doubted Rikiga would fire him, especially now that he had a newfound... friendship? acquaintanceship? with Shion. It was never worth risking it though.

            Nezumi wandered up the stairs awkwardly, grabbed his bag and bid goodbye to Hamlet and Cravat. "Shion'll take good care of you two," he told them.

            He felt awkward changing in Shion's home. Vulnerable. So he didn't. He could change in the coffee shop's bathroom, and it would be easier. There wasn't the same connection to the coffee shop that he felt to Shion.

             Karan stopped him at the door. She smiled slightly, handing him a fresh-baked bun. "Shion forgot breakfast again," she said, shaking her head.

            Nezumi didn't know what to say. He just nodded and said, "Thank you."

            He ate the bun on the way to the coffee shop. He opened the door, nudging it with his foot so he could slip through. His eyes met Inukashi's across the counter.

            Inukashi stared at him like they wanted Nezumi to die in the most painful way possible.

            It would be a quiet day.

***

Inukashi was taking a break again. It was about the third time this hour. Actually, Inukashi's last break had lasted fifteen minutes, five minutes ago.

            It was like he was working alone. He gave the girl a wrong order, but he had solved that problem with a charming smile. Some guy ordered a simple hot chocolate, and Nezumi knew he could do that. So he did.

            The shop was empty. Inukashi was still somewhere, not doing their job. Maybe they were in the bathroom, maybe the alley behind the coffee shop. Maybe Nezumi didn't care.

            The little bell at the door chimed happily. Nezumi kind of wanted to break it. What right did it have to sound so cheerful? It was annoying.

            Nezumi looked up from the book he was reading under the counter. "Where's Shion?" he asked a moment later. Safu stood a foot away from him, looking slightly lost.

            Safu smiled slightly at the ground. "His class ends twenty minutes after mine. Usually I wait for him."

            "But not today?"

            "No, not today."

            Character development. How exciting. A mystery, a question she wanted him to ask. But she wasn't expecting him to ask, "And what are you going to order?"

            "I just want to talk," Safu said.

            That was new.

            "We are talking," Nezumi pointed out. He grabbed a small stack of paper cups. Sure, maybe he was actually avoiding talking to her, or maybe he really wanted to make a pyramid of shitty coffee cups.

            Halfway through building the pyramid, Safu told him, "It's about Shion."

            "What about Shion?" Nezumi asked dismissively.

           "That's who I want to talk about," Safu said. She was more patient than Nezumi had initially given her credit for. He had expected her to knock over his stack of cups, storm out, but not before punching him for good measure.

            "Fascinating," Nezumi said.

            "You're stalling."

            And Nezumi froze. He was becoming soft, letting his emotions show through. That was the only explanation he could think of. Safu had read him easily, just like Shion had read him easily.

            The pyramid shook as Nezumi breathed out. It was embarrassing, being caught holding his breath. Like it would help something. Anything.

            It wasn't worth stalling any longer. He'd lost his cool.

            Nezumi stacked up all the cups again and returned them to their original place. He leaned forward on his elbows, showing Safu that she had his undivided attention. She stared at him for a moment, mouth open slightly. He quirked an eyebrow.

            He was ready for her to talk.

            He was ready to get this over with.

            Some part of him, maybe, thought this might be good for him. Another part decided it wanted to run away. Wasn't that what Nezumi was good at?

            Instead, his mouth moved on its own. "So, Shion?" prompted Nezumi.

            Safu laughed a little, and it was a nice noise. "I don't know where to start. I don't want to ruin this for him."

            "This?"

            "Whatever this is," she said, then laughed again.

            "You can start making sense anytime," Nezumi said.

            Safu paused for a moment, looked over her shoulder, bit her lip. When she looked back at Nezumi, there was a set determination on her face. Nezumi found he liked that expression, on anyone. It was nice to see.

            "You notice him, right?" asked Safu.

            "It's hard to miss him," Nezumi answered honestly.

            Nezumi stayed steely calm as Safu slammed her hands on the counter. "That's not what I meant."

            "Use your words, princess."

            "Ugh, you're so..."

            "Charming?"

            "Frustrating. I don't know why Shion likes you."

            "But does he like-like me?"

            That's it. All this talking was, to use Safu's word, frustrating. They were going in circles. Safu was unable to spit out what she wanted to say. Nezumi could only play along for so long. Maybe Shion would come and break up this nonsense. He would order something and Nezumi would not mess it up. The order, of course.

            "Are you always so blind?" Safu sighed.

            "Only when it suits me," shot out Nezumi.

            Then his brain caught up to his mouth, "Wait."

            "You've done nothing but be a complete jerk to him, yet somehow he still wants to talk about you. He comes here for two reasons. He feels a commitment to Rikiga. And for you. God, it's ridiculous."

            "That is ridiculous," Nezumi agreed.

            "What?"

            Now his brain was working. After a momentary pause, everything was back in order and grinding away. It's always good to know his brain would only abandon thought in the most dire and important circumstances.

            Nezumi put his head down on his arms. "I don't understand him."

            Truer words, Nezumi thought, had never been spoken.

            That damn bell chimed again.

            "Safu?" Shion said. Nezumi tensed, and he knew that Safu did too. Like a child caught misbehaving. Except she hadn't done anything wrong, had she?

           Nezumi lifted his head. He'd always compared this coffee shop to cheap theatre, and now was the performance.

            "Shion, hi," Safu said with a smile. "I was... really craving a hot chocolate."

            She stared at Nezumi imploringly, and he shrugged and got to work.

            "Really?" Shion said, and Nezumi could practically hear his eyebrows drawing together.

            "Uh huh," Safu said.

            "What size," Nezumi asked.

            "Excuse me?" Safu squawked.

            "Cup."

            "Oh," Safu brushed her hair back with her hand. "Small."

            "No one ever orders anything more," Nezumi drawled, "because the drinks here are shit."

            "And whose fault is that?" snapped Safu.

            Nezumi held up his hands in mock surrender. Safu was on edge, he knew. He could hear it in her voice and he knew Shion could too. Based on the way his eyes were focused intently on the ground, Nezumi knew that Shion was thinking hard about a reason.

            Where did Nezumi get off knowing what Shion was thinking?

            He slid the hot chocolate over to Safu. "It's on the house," he said. "We can pretend it's Shion's and Rikiga won't mind."

            "Uh, thanks?"

            "Also," Nezumi said. "Constructive criticism and all, you're a terrible actor."

            "That's not constructive criticism," Safu ground out.

            Shion's eyebrows drew closer together, and he looked between Nezumi and Safu. Then he smiled slightly and said, "I'm a little confused."

            Because everyone smiles when they're confused.      

            Nezumi had given up understanding Shion a long time ago. And he found that was okay, because he didn't need to pin Shion down.

            With his mind. Pin Shion down with his mind.

            Of course.

            Nezumi felt like he could finally enlighten Shion about something. No more Shion surprising him over and over again; he could finally surprise Shion.

            But he found he didn't want to.

            Maybe he had to return home, mull this new information over in his mind, maybe write it down in a diary with lots of hearts.

            Nezumi didn't know how to feel.

           There was a fine line between hating and tolerating him that most people seemed to walk. Sometimes, like today, people would toe into the territory of hating him. It was just that kind of day.

            After everything, Shion didn't hate him.

            Yet.

            But that was something.

            "Do you want to order anything, Shion?" Nezumi asked to break the silence.

            "Oh," Shion looked up. "I'm okay. I'm just wondering what Safu told you." He grinned a little, "If it's anything bad, then I swear it's a lie."

            "It's nothing important."

            Wrong choice of words, wrong time to play it cool. Safu drew in a breath loudly, before turning to Nezumi. She seemed to bite her tongue before she could snap, and instead, stormed out of the building.

            Nezumi could feel tension building in his chest. Why?

            Shion frowned. "Really?" he asked.

            "Apparently not."

            They stood in silence. Nezumi pulled his book out from under the counter, about ready for this day to be over.

            Shion said, "Can I guess what Safu said?"

            "If you want to embarrass yourself," Nezumi replied with a shrug.

            Shion took a breath. It was a deep breath, a noticeable thing based on the way his chest expanded. "I really do like you, Nezumi," he said.

            And there it was.

            "You knew all along?"

            "I guessed."

            "You don't know me."

            "I would still like to."

            "Then why are you going on, confessing shit to me, when you don't even know me? Is confusing people a sick pleasure of yours?"

            "What?"

            Nezumi had to remind himself to breathe. He smiled down at his book. "People usually hate me once they get to know me."

            "I'm not most people," Shion pointed out.

            And that was true. Shion wasn't most people. Shion was Shion. Nezumi had stopped trying to figure him out a while ago. Shion was a person that Nezumi couldn't read, who stood here now, confessing his love or attraction or something.

            Nezumi said, "You would definitely be the most interesting person to go out with."

            "I never said I wanted to go out with you."

            Nezumi looked up, too fast. Shion was grinning, toying with his sleeve. "Oh my god," Nezumi said, "you're actually joking."

            He didn't read that. It's what he wanted to see.

            "Yeah," Shion said.

            Maybe it would be a mutual confusion thing. Shion seemed mystified by Nezumi, Nezumi confused by Shion. It could work. It would be like in the novels, except Nezumi's life was not novel material. But, somehow, that wasn't important. He could be important, because he was interesting to Shion.

            Could this work?

            He didn't know the answer to that, but for some strange reason, he was willing to try.

             

           


	9. Chapter Nine

            Safu burst in like a hurricane.

            It apparently didn't matter than Inukashi was _right there_ or that Nezumi was working. Nope, Safu had something to say and goddammit, she would say it.

            And what she had to say was, "What the hell?"

            Nezumi looked over at Inukashi, who seemed all too eager for dirt right now. If this was a superhero movie, Nezumi was certain that Inukashi would have declared him a nemesis.

            Would that make Nezumi the superhero?

            But Safu's red, angry face brought Nezumi back to reality. "Would you like to order something, Princess" Nezumi asked, putting special emphasis on the last word.

            "I need to talk to you, Nezumi," Safu said.     

            She was calling him by his first name now, and he had yet to decide if that was a good thing or not. Names held meaning, familiarity. And Nezumi was left wondering what Safu saw him as. Not that he cared, exactly. It was just that Safu was smart, Safu was interesting, and Safu was important to Shion. In no particular order.

            "Talk?" Nezumi asked, raising his eyebrows.

            With a quick glance over at Inukashi, Nezumi could see that they were practically soaking up this conversation. Whether it was for gossip of Inukashi's 'information side business', Nezumi could never tell.

            "Yes, talk," Safu said. "Like we are doing right now, only I need to talk about--"

            "We can talk outside," Nezumi offered.

            Safu closed her mouth. When it came to Shion, that girl could snarl like a wolf. She said, "Oh, okay."

            "I'm not covering for you," Inukashi put in with a little sneer.

            "I'm not asking you to," Nezumi shot back.

            Nezumi led Safu to the alley behind the coffee shop. It kind of smelled, but it was privacy. "What's up, Princess?" Nezumi asked.

            "Who's that... person who works with you? They seem unpleasant."

            Small talk? Two seconds ago, she was ready to rip out Nezumi's jugular with her teeth, and now she was making small talk?

            "You want to talk about Inukashi?" Nezumi asked incredulously. "I live with them, and believe it or not, we don't sleep together."

            "I believe it," Safu said. "And no, I want to talk about Shion."

            "That surprises me so much," Nezumi said dryly.

            "Yeah, well," Safu said, lip rising. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

            "Too many things," Nezumi said with a shake of his head.

            Safu expertly ignored him. "I mean, you two are dating, right? Shion said you were."

            "Did he?" Nezumi asked. "I myself am still processing the chain of events."

            "Ha ha," Safu offered dryly. "Are you two dating or not?"

            "I would imagine so," Nezumi said. "I don't see Shion as much of a liar."

            "Then why," Safu hissed, getting in his face, "haven't you two been on a date?"

            "A date?" Nezumi asked.

            Safu sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "A date. Like, is it really that hard?"

            When Nezumi didn't answer right away, Safu said, "You have been on a date before, right?"

            "Are you doubting me, Princess?" Nezumi said with a charming smile. Okay, so he was lying. But if God were to smite him for lying, then he would have done it a long time ago.

            Safu, apparently, saw right through him. She burst out laughing. "You? You, of all people, have never been on a date?"

            "I've dated before," Nezumi said in his defence. "However, none of them were important enough for a real date."

            Safu was quickly returning to her attack dog ways. Her lip was raised again. "And Shion is just like all the others?"

            "Did I say that?"

            "I'm inferring."

            "Well, Princess, have you ever thought you were inferring wrong?"

            "Am I?"

            And this was getting nowhere.

            "I have to get back to work. It would be a pity if Shion's favourite barista got fired," Nezumi said.

            Safu blocked the way out of the alley with her body. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she sighed again. "Listen," she said.

            "I don't see how I have a choice not," Nezumi put in.

            "I want to Shion to be happy, and if you're a part of it... ugh. I am going to help you, but you've got to let me."

            It was surprising, Nezumi thought, that those might have been some of the nicest words spoken to him. He'd never really thought of himself as someone who would make anyone happy. But maybe Shion was different.

            Shion was always different.

            "Maybe I might need help," Nezumi admitted grudgingly. These people could read him like a book; there was not use hiding anything from them.

            It was a strange, vulnerable feeling

 

            He wanted to concoct their battle plans at his apartment, but Safu apparently had different ideas.

            "Your housemate is shady at best, and I think they want you to die," was her oh so helpful input. So Safu decided that they would meet at her house. She had no "shady" housemate, unless Nezumi counted her grandmother as that. And he would keep his judgements to himself until he met the lady.

            "Fine," Nezumi had grumbled. "When should I be there?"

            "I get home at about four," she had answered.

            The whole idea was that he would meet her later on and they would find plan some sort of perfect, Disney-like date. The problem was this: that wasn't Nezumi. Nothing went well for him, he decided on days he pitied himself. And if this date went well, it wouldn't be him. His life wasn't a Disney movie.

            He had this unsettling feeling that if it was, he would be the villain. Or maybe the princess.

            He used that thought to daydream through the entire day at work. He was grudgingly thankful for Inukashi there. Nezumi seemed to be worse at his job than usual. But it wasn't nerves. It was never nerves.

            Could it be nerves?

            That was the thought he was left with as he walked to Safu's house. He had thought she'd lived in the Lost Town for some reason, but her instructions clearly led him past that part of the city and into the rich district.

            He had her number in case he got lost.

            That's right, they were on that level. He was slightly worried that she would find some way to murder him over text if he did something wrong. That was, if he ever did anything wrong.

            (He did, often.)

            He knocked at a door of a big house, a fancy house. Safu couldn't possibly live here. He looked around as if he had knocked on the wrong door.

            Right when he was about to leave, Safu answered the door.

            "You're here," she said flatly.

            "Yes, you told me to come here," he replied.

            "I didn't think you would come."

            She still hadn't invited him in.

            "Who is it, Safu?" called a voice.

            "Just a friend, Grandma."

            "Is Shion staying for dinner?"

            "It's not Shion, Gram."

            Nezumi stared over Safu's shoulder, suddenly feeling tense. An old woman in a wheelchair rolled into view, smiling from ear to ear. She looked at Nezumi, and that smile never failed. "Hello. Any friend of Safu's in welcome to stay for dinner," she said.

            Nezumi inclined his head, and said, "Thank you."

            "And then I'll help you," Safu said.

            Nezumi looked at her. "You'll still help?" he asked.

            Safu said, "I can't throw you to the wolves right now, especially when Grandma's making you dinner right now."

            Words stuck in Nezumi's throat. He knew he was supposed to thank her, but he couldn't. It was physically impossible. The words were burs.

            Safu nodded tensely and looked away.

            Dinner at Safu's was kind of plain, but about a hundred times better than Nezumi had ever had. Eventually, Safu's grandmother stopped cooking and Safu took over, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

            Nezumi couldn't imagine doing that with anyone. That mind-reading, knowing what the other person wanted. Safu did it with her grandma, Shion seemed to do it with Safu. And Nezumi was kind of just there.

            He ate his food without complaint or praise. He did thank Safu's grandmother before they went up to Safu's room.

            "So, we need to plan a date," Safu said, sitting on her pink quilt.

            "I'm sorry," Nezumi drawled. "I'm still not over your room."

            It was very pink, slightly vintage. The contents of her closet were spilling onto the floor. There were even stuffed animals.

            "What?" Safu snapped.

            "I didn't expect it to look like this."

            "Like what?"

            "Like it belonged to a human. Even Shion's room was a shock. You two are just so weird, I expected your rooms to reflect it."

            "Keep talking and maybe I'll change my mind."

            Nezumi said, "Right. We're planning a dream date."

            "No one said it had to be a dream date."

            "I did."

            Safu said, "Ah" like what Nezumi had said meant something to her.

               

 


	10. cryptid spotted: sawyer fckin updated cryptozoologists shocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to ao3 user homestuck, who commented on this thing after it hadn't been updated for more than a year??? why omg??

            He didn’t think this would happen, but he doesn’t usually expect to mess up. Safu had planned something perfect and beautiful and just… not like him.

            So he just didn’t follow the plan.

            It was 6pm and Nezumi was fidgeting in front of a worn down building.  The bricks were on the verge of crumbling, but they weren’t there yet. It was the pride of the West Block, and it would stay that way even if it was falling apart.

            Nezumi loved this place. It felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever been.

            “Nezumi?”

            He looked up. Shion was picking his way over the garbage on the side of the street. Nezumi’s face was trained to disinterest, but he almost gaped. “You own something other than sweater vests?” Nezumi joked. “I’m very impressed.”

            Shion wasn’t dressed in anything extraordinary, but it was the pure strangeness of change that made Nezumi question it. He was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and a red plaid shirt.

            But Shion blushed anyway. “Yeah.”

            “Well,” Nezumi said before it became awkward. “Are you ready to see the best place in the West Block? Or the world, maybe.”

            Shion raised an eyebrow. “The world?” he asked.

            “Possibly.”

            Nezumi led the way into the building. Through the door, and it opened into a wide room. There was a stage and half-full seating scattered around it. It almost seemed like the whole building was this one room, but Nezumi knew better. He’d been backstage, once, helping.

            “This is… a theatre?” Shion said.

            “It’s exactly what it looks like,” Nezumi replied.

            “So, a theatre?”

            “Smart ass.”

            Shion laughed. “How do you insult people so easily?” he asked.

            “What?”

            “Don’t you worry about hurting their feelings? Or how they’ll react?” Shion asked. “People typically don’t like being insulted.”

            “I don’t care,” Nezumi said.

            “Is that any way to live?”

            Nezumi pulled a chair over and sat on it, facing the stage. Shion copied, but he even made sitting look polite. Nezumi hadn’t thought that was possible. Nezumi said, “It’s the only way I know how to live.”

            A familiar couple came inside and sat near the two of them. Nezumi shot them an ugly look and moved a few chairs away. Shion actually rolled his eyes before following.

            “What are you? Twelve? What was that for?” Nezumi said.

            “You’re really good at pushing people away.”

            “No, actually,” Nezumi said. He was tempted to hide his face, but he didn’t know if that would be overdramatic. Maybe they wouldn’t recognize him. He’d grown his hair out since he’d last seen them. “That’s not the reason.”

            “Then what is the reason?”

            He knew Shion would stick to the topic annoyingly, like a bur. So he just stuck his fingers over his mouth and mumbled, “Those people were the worst foster parents I’ve ever had.”

            Shion shifted to face him.

            As if God was, for once in his damn existence, smiling upon Nezumi, the lights dimmed and the curtain opened.

            “When shall we three meet again,” began a woman on the stage. “In thunder, lightning, or in rain.”

            Nezumi grinned, leaning forward. He didn’t know it, but his eyes were brighter than they had been before and his smile almost looked soft.

            As the man playing Macbeth entered the scene, Nezumi shot a glance over at Shion. When he saw that Shion was blatantly, blatantly staring at him, he quirked an eyebrow. Shion’s face flushed red in the dark and he looked back towards the stage.

            For all the theatre group on stage was full of volunteers, they were very good.

            Nezumi had considered joining them at one point. He’d helped backstage with their makeup and costumes, but he’d never stepped over the line and actually volunteered to be in a play. His excuse was that he was always too busy, with the shitty coffee shop and No. 6.

            Shion nudged his shoulder. He leaned close to Nezumi and whispered, “For the first time since we got here, you look sad.”

            Nezumi almost flinched away before he caught himself.

            The lights flickered on and the room erupted in cheers. Lady Macbeth stood out, covered in blood and holding a big bouquet of flowers.

            Nezumi shook his head and faced Shion. “Why would you say something like that?” he asked.

            “I’m just making an observation,” Shion said.

            “You’re a natural, you know that, right?”

            “I thought I was more of an idealist?” Shion said, a faint smile spreading over his lips.

            Nezumi let out a surprised bark of laughter before slamming his hands over his mouth. The couple near them looked over, and then the woman whispered to her husband. She got to her feet and walked over to Nezumi in her wobbly heels.

            “Nezumi, dear,” the woman said brightly.

            Nezumi’s expression slammed shut. He nodded towards her, just to show he’d noticed her.

            He pretended not to notice how the woman’s expression fell. She tilted her head, hair spilling over her cheek, and continued as if nothing had happened. “It’s nice to hear you laugh,” she said. “I know it was hard in our home, but… I’m glad you’re happy now.”

            Nezumi nodded to her again.

            The woman nodded back and walked back towards her husband. They stood, and he held out his arm for her. Arms clasped together, the two of them exited the building.

            “Hey,” Shion said.

            Nezumi looked to him and nodded, like he was broken.

            “Do you want to see Hamlet and Cravat?” Shion asked. “I think they’ve missed you.”

            “Oh,” Nezumi said because that definitely wasn’t what he had been expecting Shion to say. “Sure. I’ve missed them too.”

            They got to their feet. Nezumi was honest to God considering sticking his arm out like his old foster dad, half as a joke and half to see what reaction he would get.

            But he didn’t.

            Because, Nezumi told himself, there was something about him. It was dark and he would prefer not to name it, but he didn’t think he was ready to love. It was like he’d fallen off his bike too many times, scraped knees, and now he just expected failure whenever he got on that bicycle.

            He looked over at Shion.

            Shion, as if sensing he was being looked at, returned the look a moment later.

            “Why do you like that theatre?” Shion asked.

            Another question Nezumi didn’t expect.

            “Theatre is so real,” Nezumi said, and Shion quirked an eyebrow. “I mean,” he stammered. God _dammit._ “Theatre lets you be free. You can be anyone and forget all your troubles and you can just _be._ It’s peaceful. Or something.”

            He’d never had to explain this to anyone. It made him feel stupid, like his tongue was too fat and he couldn’t find the words.

            Shion just hummed.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nezumi asked.

            “It’s just nice… hearing you like something.”

            “I like a lot of things.”

            “Like?”

            “Shakespeare,” Nezumi began.

            “Only nerds like Shakespeare,” Shion put in.

            “Do you like Shakespeare?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Nerd.”

            Shion laughed, and it lit up his whole damn face. Nezumi still couldn’t figure out how people smiled like that, so openly and bright.

            And yeah, Nezumi decided, he could definitely fall in love with that.

            Not a person, not yet.

            But there were those little traits, the ones that seemed so amazing to him. There were people who could talk to Inukashi without yelling. There were people who were good, honestly so good.

            Nezumi had been alone too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i've had this chapter written for like... 8 months. i had to go through like 16 folders to find it, and then open like 23 documents bc i can't name things for shit. i do have plans to write more of this, however, if i don't, this is a more suitable ending than what i had left it at before. the next chapter is half finished tho, and there's like 5 chapters left to write (i would know for certain if i could fckin plot but i am a fool) so hopefully i'll be able to finish this thing!! i really want to get back into this tiny, dead fandom tbh. voltron is dead to me, we got a divorce and i'm letting it keep all the kids bc they're pissbabies and i hate them. yeah uh i had a point to this but it's like almost 5am and i haven't slept??? i wanna write more no. 6 fics but i think i lost all my notes when my laptop died rip nigel ok goodnight folks. (wait one last thing: i don't remember shit abt this fic i read over this chapter quickly to see if it was ok but idk how well it blends with the rest so pls tell me if it needs some work with making it mesh (mash??) with the rest? ya ok now i'm going to bed.)


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